Trial of Error
by abc79-de
Summary: Set just after Will You Be My Lorelai Gilmore? Logan heads off to Vegas with Colin and Finn, but Rory doesn't let it just pass without having her say. Unfortunately for Rory, what happens in Vegas isn't going to stay in Vegas. Rogan.
1. The World's Worst Hangover

Trial of Error

Chapter One: The World's Worst Hangover

Description: Set just after Will You Be My Lorelai Gilmore? Logan heads off to Vegas with Colin and Finn, but Rory doesn't let it just pass without having her say. Unfortunately for Rory, what happens in Vegas isn't going to stay in Vegas.

Ship: Rogan

Rating: T

The way he'd said it, his attempt at rationalizing his sophomoric behavior, it was as if he wanted her to believe that heading off to Las Vegas was just an average person's solution to dealing with the stress of life. Like the next time she did badly on an exam or argued with her roommate, she might hop a flight, shoot some craps, and enjoy the free drinks on the casino floor until she cheered up. At least, she hoped that was all he'd partake of Vegas's array of offerings. She resisted the urge jump to the worst-case scenario, just because he was displaying an unfavorable reaction to his situation, that didn't mean he'd surround himself with every temptation known to man, even if that was the specialty of his city of choice.

Rory had gone on with her day as planned after he announced that he was taking off with no notice instead of coming with her like he'd promised; she'd had no real choice, despite his glorious attempt to derail her carefully mapped out strategies for attempting to be in two places at once. Not that she even wanted to alter her plans for him at that moment. In a contest of her oldest friend's baby shower and his impromptu pity party, there would only ever be one winner. He'd been smart when he bailed not to ask her to take off with him, because neither of them was dumb. They both knew their own limits, as far as the other was concerned. There were instances, moments she wasn't proud of, when she'd found him irresistible, despite her better judgment. His behavior in the last few weeks had not warranted preferential treatment from her, no matter how concerned about him she was deep down.

She hated that he was even on her mind, when he shouldn't have been. When she was celebrating with her best friend, eating cake decorated with baby bottles and blue binkies. She was thinking about him when she was joking with her mother and recounting her meeting with the guy from _The_ _New York Times_, her coffee date that she'd bent her schedule around. She thought of him on the drive back to her apartment, and she'd thought of him as she took a turn to the interstate and detoured to the airport.

It didn't sit right with her, for him to be able to just take off like that, when she was in no position to take the time to tell him what she really thought of his behavior. She'd been doing her best to understand his plight, his rich-boy woes, but this time she'd had enough. She could understand that he hated being under his father's thumb, she herself took issue with the disregard Mitchum gave to Logan's life when he decided to ship him off to live in London for far too long after they'd started living together, but what she found she couldn't abide by was his time-tested methods of cheering himself up. Particularly those means that involved his friends and unholy quantities of alcohol. At a certain point, he had to understand that his actions affected more than just him. She'd been through far too much with him to sit back and wait, hoping he'd come home in one piece and that she wouldn't get another call beckoning her to his bedside in a hospital or worse.

She'd switched her cell phone off as instructed in preparation for take-off. It was a bit of a blur; parking her car in long-term parking, waiting in the short ticket line, her timing miraculously just right to make the last flight of the night to Sin City. She'd had no luggage to check, just her purse with a novel in it as well as her wallet, keys, and phone. She breezed through security, bought a cup of coffee, and was suddenly eying the latest copy of SkyMall in the seatback pocket. She had a couple of hours in the air to realize she needed a plan, and that it wasn't smart to jet across the country without informing someone that she had left the East Coast. She turned on her phone when they touched down in Nevada, once the friendly flight attendant who'd brought her an extra bag of peanuts let the passengers know that it was now safe to use phones if they were in reach.

She scrolled through her most recent calls. Her mother—that was dicey. Lorelai wasn't Logan's biggest fan on his best day, and while her mother always had her back, she wasn't keen on calling to let her know his bad behavior had prompted her to fly to Vegas without so much as a packed toothbrush. Lane deserved her rest, and not to try to deal with Rory's boy drama. Growing two boys and dealing with the dynamic duo of Zach and Mrs. Kim was more than enough on her best friend's plate. Nor did she want to give Logan warning that she was closing in on him. She wanted to catch him off-guard and make him realize that she was serious. She wouldn't keep forgiving his behavior. She might love him, but she was sick of being the understanding girlfriend. It was true that he didn't have a lot of experience with girlfriends, but he needed to recognize that he'd hit the jackpot as far as she was concerned, and if he wasn't ready to start acting like it then she'd be done. She was in Vegas after all—and this was her gamble.

She dialed his number, wondering after the fact if he'd even pick up. Did men answer calls from their significant others while carousing with their guys? Usually he took off for parts unknown, exotic locals without cell towers in range. In Vegas, his level of communication was self-dictated. He was as reachable as he wished. He made his decision in three rings. The noise level instantly transmitted to her ear made him wonder if it'd taken three rings to even notice his phone was ringing.

"Logan? Can you hear me?"

"Rory, hey! Yeah, it's kind of insane in here."

"Where are you?" she asked, feeling guilty for how loudly she was speaking in the confined space of the semi-full flight that was still making its way to the gate.

"Wait, hang on a sec. No, Finn, no more. I said no more. Seriously, dude, that's my limit. Sorry, Ace. The main event's about to start, it's only going to get louder. I can call you later."

"Are you at some kind of sporting event?" she asked hopefully, and even if he were at a strip club she hoped he had the decency to lie to her.

"Yeah, big fight at the MGM. Colin bet half his windfall on it, so we're here for the long haul, which he's hoping is exactly three rounds," he said, his voice merry as if he'd not just had the biggest defeat of his career that involved losing more than half of his own inheritance.

"Is that your hotel?" she asked, trying to get any inkling of where to go once she found a cab at the airport.

"Nah, we're staying at the Bellagio. I'm a sucker for the fountain and the lights. Listen, it's about to get going. We'll talk later, though, okay?"

She heard a clanging bell more clearly than his voice, but she'd gleaned the choice bits of information she deemed vital to her plight. "Yeah, sure. Say hi to the guys for me?"

"Will do, Ace."

She ended the call just before the flight attendant came overhead again, with connecting gate information—a hint that would have clued him in and ruined her element of surprise. It was not an easy feat, to gain his attention by unexpected action. She knew he probably thought her too predictable, caught up in her own routines and habits to react to his whims at times. She knew he thought he was safe from her disapproval for the time being, as she would go on as planned, traveling to and from Stars Hollow, making it back to New Haven in time to study for her upcoming exam, going on to spend Sunday catching up on paper stuff. He could set a clock by her in that regard, and not only was she used to his whims, his unpredictable flights of fancy, but she was the understanding girlfriend—the rock on which he might depend.

She couldn't wait to let him know that all that was about to change. The look of shock on his face when he saw her in the flesh after his night of who knows what kind of steam-blowing debauchery—that would be worth half of Colin's windfall and Logan's lost inheritance all rolled into one.

-X-

The concierge at the Bellagio was most helpful the second she started name-dropping. It was beneath her, perhaps, but in this one case potentially vital. She realized not only was her credit card a little too abused from the cost of the last-minute flight to heap on the cost of a room at the Bellagio, but why waste money when he most likely had an entire suite to himself? She was not wasteful in the name of comfort like he was, and it also allowed her the best kind of upper hand. He'd stumble in, hopefully before dawn, to find her in him room, on his bed, and ready to do things on her time.

"I really appreciate this," she said with her most obliged smile.

"It happens all the time," he assured her, typing on his keyboard to work his magic. "It looks like Mr. Huntzberger is in one of our larger suites, room 3645," he read off, as he reached out a key card to her. "Shall I call a bellman to help you with your bags?"

"Oh, he went ahead and brought all our luggage, because of my last-minute work crisis. He is such a sweetheart; he didn't want me to have to worry about a thing. He said he'd leave a card for me with you guys, but with his boys' night and the big fight and all," she said, adding facts to help sell her story.

"It's our job to let our guests enjoy themselves during their stay, and we're more than happy to take care of all the rest. If there's anything we can do for you, just pick up the house phone."

She thanked him again but was careful not to be too gushing. She noticed that people of considerable means tended to be gracious in a way that signaled the fact they knew people were being paid well to be nice to them. She palmed the key card and made for the elevators. The casino floor called out to her before she got that far, and she saw beautiful women in tiny outfits carrying trays of drinks amid the crowd of those hopeful to win a little money from the house. She knew she had a little pocket money in her purse, and she was conservative enough not to go too crazy in the face of temptation. She'd keep it to the slot machines and not risk more than twenty bucks. There was the potential that she'd end up without a boyfriend by the end of the day, and she didn't need to end up penniless to add insult to injury.

Her first payout was small, but encouraging. She slipped another coin into the machine and pulled the lever down toward her. A nice fruity cocktail appeared at her side, and she pulled the lever a few more times. She wasn't sure how long had passed before her confidence was bolstered enough to hit a table game, but with a couple of drinks under her belt, it came sooner than it would have otherwise.

-X-

Her brain felt like it was pressing on the sides of her skull, begging to be given more space. The bed sheets were as soft as butter, but she realized that she knew that only because they were wrapped around her otherwise naked body. Her pillow was firm and warm, and in her struggle to emerge from the haze of a dehydrated sleep she didn't realize at first that the heat was radiating from its source, and not from her having simply laid on it for eight hours. Her head was resting on a man's torso and not one of the fluffy down pillows provided in excess on the king-sized bed. She also hadn't slept anywhere near eight hours, and the sheet wasn't the only thing she was wrapped up in.

Her hand pressed firmly in a downward direction on his chest as she attempted to use him as an anchor from which to hoist herself upright. Her head protested angrily and her stomach threatened retaliation unless she returned to her prior state of horizontal equilibrium. She gave a moan and closed her eyes, willing the swishy, whirly sensation to cease.

"Morning," came the far too cognizant voice from under her ear, his lower timbre reverberating in her too-full brain, the likes of which was tissue-soaked in … whatever she'd had too much of before she finally got to bed. She had a vague recollection of something fruity, which had apparently masked the high alcohol content therein.

"Shhh," she pushed the sound out between her lips in an accusatory manner, as if he was the reason she had gotten drunk to the point of the waking up with the worst hangover of her life. Her indignation kicked in, reminding her that if not for him she would never have flown to Vegas, gotten drunk, or woken up in that much pain. He deserved to be admonished with much stronger language than a shush.

Unfortunately his deserved verbal lashing would have to wait. She breathed out heavily, hoping he'd take the hint and let her fall back into an uncomfortable slumber. He wasn't ever eager to discuss personal matters and the sad fact was that he hadn't done anything out of character that they couldn't deal with later. They'd leave Vegas, together or apart, and go back to the East Coast to go on with life as they knew it. Just as soon as her head stopped trying to explode, that was.

His thumb brushed lightly across the skin between her eyebrows, a feather-light reminder that he knew to be gentle with her but leaving her alone wasn't his chosen route. "Rory. Are we going to talk about last night?"

She shifted and emitted a guttural protest. The fact that he used her name drifted lightly in her mind, but it the relevance didn't stick. He was probably upset that she'd come and ruined his man time, his precious outing with his crew. "Not now, Logan."

He sighed, softly, but she knew that sigh. She opened her eyes, trying to ignore the pain that even the dim light of a room still enrobed in pulled curtains incited. "Look, if you're looking for an apology, I'm not sorry. You didn't leave me much choice."

His eyebrows rose in surprise. "That's what you want to say about last night?"

She raced through her available memories that had led up to his insistence to chat. "Um, yes? Do you really think I did something wrong?"

He floundered. "I wouldn't say that, but I do admit that I'm starting to wonder just how drunk you were. Have you ever blacked out before?"

She would have rolled her eyes if she thought it wouldn't amp up her pain. Her whole head felt like it had been taken apart and put together incorrectly. "I didn't have that much to drink. I was on the casino floor, waiting for you, and I…," she recounted, trailing off where her intact memory did. "I came up here, to wait for you, I guess. Did Colin win or lose?"

Logan stared at her in disbelief. "Oh my God."

She blinked, unaware at what had disturbed him, unless Colin had lost big and gotten him to bet with him. "Did you lose on the fight?"

"I didn't bet," he said soberly with a slow shake of his head. "Rory."

She struggled to sit up. "Why do you keep saying my name like that? You never do, unless…."

He made soothing sounds as he used his hands to ease her back down. "You should rest for a while."

"You can't get off on a technicality here, Logan," she argued, though she was grateful for the help in getting settled back down into the soft pillows.

He closed his eyes as if his eyelids weighed a half a ton each. "I'm not trying to get out of anything. But I do think you should feel better before we discuss last night."

"I just have a headache, I'll be fine. Just spit out whatever it is you're not saying," she demanded. Her increasing paranoia was overriding her need to nurse her ailing body.

"Last night," he began slowly, gauging her reaction in case her mental gaps started to weave together on their own. "I came back to the hotel early and saw you playing roulette."

"Roulette?" she asked, trying to conjure up the recollection and failing. "So I didn't surprise you up here?"

He chuckled a little. "Oh, no, you surprised me, but you were most definitely downstairs. I tried to coax you upstairs, but you were having none of it, you told me that I wasn't the only one allowed to have fun in Vegas, and you took me on a whirlwind tour of the hotel."

She cringed. "I said that?"

He nodded. "You did. Any of this ringing a bell?"

She winced, not wanting to risk shaking her head and the fragile contents within. "Nope."

He remained stoic. "Right. Anyway, we went outside, because you decided that you wanted to see the fountain up close, and there was no saying no to you, so out we went to look at the fountain. It was then that you started yelling and telling me that I couldn't keep running off with my friends instead of confiding my problems in you, and that you wanted to be there for me, but it was hard to be there for me when you had to fly a thousand miles to accomplish that."

She wasn't sure what to say. She agreed with her drunken sentiments, but she might not have chosen one of his favorite sights to unleash her tirade, in public no less. While she could attempt to blame her state of inebriation for her words, they both knew better than to believe it wasn't what she was truly feeling. "I may have been a little too harsh—we both know that alcohol serves to heighten people's true feelings," she began judiciously.

He put a hand on her bare shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. "I'm not done."

She whimpered. "There's more?"

He nodded. "Yeah. While you were yelling, I thought about how you flew to Vegas to confront me, instead of freezing me out or adding it to some master score card to use against me at a later date. I realized, standing there in the middle of the night in front of the fountain, that you were right and I should have confided in you about everything that had happened, because you're the only person in the whole world that cared enough about me to fly to Vegas just to call me a jerk."

"Did I really call you a jerk?" she asked curiously.

"You had a whole list of synonyms," he said with a cheeky smile. "Jerk was the gist."

"So, in the end?" she said, sort of let down that she had no recollection of the big outburst she'd spent so much time planning and their apparently coming to terms, not to mention the sex they must have had in honor of said terms given their current state of nakedness.

"We're not quite there yet."

"Did we gamble some more?" she asked.

He hesitated, and she felt like he looked at her forever before speaking again. "We got married."

The tenuous grip she had on her gag reflex failed, and she leaped out of the bed in the least graceful manner and barely made it to the toilet bowl before the contents of her stomach emptied in a hurry. She held on to her hair over one shoulder and let the whole process repeat, this time without the fifty-yard dash. She rested her forehead on her arm at the elbow, waiting to see if there would be a third go-around. She heard movement from the bedroom and the sound of his feet padding toward her on the carpet until she felt his hand, open and staying, on her back as she let out a few shaky breaths.

"Feel better?" he asked.

She looked up at him haplessly. "You were kidding about the last part, right?"

He met her eyes with the kind of sobriety she aspired to in that moment. "You should get cleaned up, and when you come out we'll talk. Want me to order your usual remedy from room service?"

She let him help her up to a standing position. He reached into the shower and started a spray of hot water. He'd brought in the extra robe provided by the hotel, identical to the one he'd pulled on before coming in to check on her. It was only after he shut the door behind him and left her to scrub her teeth with one of the complimentary toothbrushes that she looked down at her left hand. She stopped brushing, leaving the hanging in her mouth, as she stared down at two rings on her third finger that had not been there upon her arrival.

The likelihood that it was just some elaborate prank he was pulling to get back at her for crashing his party was the only explanation she could come up with as fog filled the bathroom and she stepped under the scaling spray of the shower with a refreshed mouth. The thought slowed her heartbeat down closer to a normal range. The heat of the water put color back in her face, and the promise of a big plate of food, mixed to her queasy stomach's liking, made her feel almost up to wrapping herself in the fluffy robe and rejoining him to find out the truth. Just in case, she stood under the showerhead for five minutes longer than necessary to offer the only buffer she had left from this alternate reality she had awoken to find.

_AN: I got this idea from a book I just read called Waking Up Married. After I read the book (quick read, not bad if you like romance books) I had a thought that it would be funny to put these two in a similar situation. The plots met when I remembered him having flitted off to Vegas in season seven and voila. Hopefully it lends itself to a fun fanfic._


	2. Finer Details of Forgotten Events

Trial of Error

Chapter Two: Finer Details of Forgotten Events

Description: Set just after Will You Be My Lorelai Gilmore? Logan heads off to Vegas with Colin and Finn, but Rory doesn't let it just pass without having her say. Unfortunately for Rory, what happens in Vegas isn't going to stay in Vegas.

Ship: Rogan

Rating: T

He kept his eyes on her. He watched her walk out of the bathroom with her damp hair hanging down loose around her shoulders as it dried against the terry cloth robe. It was her only option for clothing that didn't smell of cigar smoke and a distillery. He watched her sit down on the edge of the bed, unwilling to be the first to speak. He even glanced over to her while he was tipping the bellman that brought up two silver-domed trays of food, as if he was worried about her darting out the open door while he was occupied.

Rory wasn't about to go anywhere, regardless of what she wanted to do. Her impulsivity never served her well, and she had a mountain of evidence surrounding her to back her up. She was far from home without a change of clothing, wearing a wedding ring, and on the slow recovery from a hangover. As soon as Logan removed the domes from the platters she dug in, grateful that he knew her so well. The thought that the man who knew her so well was her husband struck her in a darkly funny way, and she wasn't successful in suppressing a nervous giggle.

"What?" he asked, jumping at the slightest ice breaker.

She shook her head, intent on not explaining. When her eyes met his she was surprised at how nervous he appeared. He'd been barely picking at his food, to the point that he probably only ordered something because she was in need and he knew she didn't like eating alone. More specifically she didn't like to be watched while she ate, but he'd been unable to stop himself in that regard. Her left hand balled in a fist, feeling the odd bump along her ring finger with her thumb and snuck a peek at his left hand. A lump developed in her throat as she desperately tried to access any memory of having picked out the matching set with him. She came up empty. All she had was what he could tell her.

"It's just… it's crazy, right? I mean, the whole situation is unbelievable."

He tilted his head, in consent. "It's all moved pretty fast."

She put down her fork and wiped her napkin over her mouth. "Logan, it's okay. You can act freaked out by this; it won't hurt my feelings. I'm freaked out. I'd be more freaked out if you didn't have a good attorney on speed dial."

"An attorney?" he asked with an empty echo.

"Do we need two? Should I get my own? I mean, annulments have to be pretty standard procedure in these kinds of situations."

"You want an annulment?" he asked, his surprise making her cringe.

"Don't you?" she asked, just as surprised by his reaction as he'd been by hers.

He rubbed his temples slowly, as he fought for patience. "Don't you want to know the details of what happened last night?"

She pointed at him. "You already told me."

"I told you the bullet points. Look, I've been thinking about this a lot," he began.

She cut him off. "Since you got up? Yeah, that's long enough to contemplate the consequences of our situation."

"Stop calling it a situation," he chastised. "I didn't sleep much last night. We were up pretty late, and then after you fell asleep my mind kept going. I admit, it occurred to me that we could get an annulment and it would be like it never happened. But the more I thought about it, I realized there's no such thing as pretending we didn't do this. Even if we have an amicable annulment, it will still be saying that we don't want to be married."

Her breath left her. She put a hand to her chest at the sensation of being fully devoid of air. "You want to be married?"

"I think that since we are, we should take in all considerations before we do anything out of haste," he explained.

"We got married in Vegas. That's not hasty enough for you?" she cried out.

His head dropped in frustration. "I had no idea you were that drunk. You never drink more than three—you're always in control."

She blanched, holding out a palm toward him. "Wait… you're blaming me for this?"

He grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze. "No, that's not… I'm not blaming you. I just think that if you remembered everything that happened last night, you might be where I am."

She tried to process what he was saying, but she took a different meaning from his words. "You weren't drunk at all?"

He shook his head. "I had two drinks with the guys, hours before I met up with you. And I had champagne, of course, with you afterward…. But you don't remember the champagne, do you?"

"Logan, I'm so sorry. I was waiting for you to come back, so I hung out on the casino floor, and they were serving drinks, so I had a couple. Then there was this crazy woman in a mink coat who bought a round of shots for our table when I was playing Pai Gow."

"So you had two drinks and a shot?" he summarized.

"Yes. But after the shot, my mouth tasted weird like I'd drank battery acid or something, so I flagged down a waitress and ordered another house drink."

"And after that, you're not sure," he said with an air of disappointment.

After her first sips of that palate-cleaner, things got foggy. Worse, he had been erased from her night entirely. At first she'd been upset that she'd missed having read him the riot act for his bad behavior, but now she felt guilty for making him have to recount such a monumental occasion—even if it turned out to be a mistake. The fact that he wasn't already on the phone with his family's lawyer gave her great pause. If ever there was a man she assumed would be desperate to get out of an unintended marriage—or any marriage, really—it was her boyfriend. Or, for the time being, her husband.

"I'm sorry," she said in a whisper. "Logan, I was really upset and I…," she cut off mid-sentence, not sure what to say to make up for the fact that she'd forgotten her own engagement and wedding in one foul swoop.

"I get that you were upset. I get why you were upset. I shouldn't have taken off like I did."

Her shoulders relaxed and she swung their hands a little. "No, you shouldn't have."

"Look, you like information. So what I'm proposing is that you let me give you all the details, and after we get back home then we'll decide what to do from there."

"You're serious about this," she said, not questioning him so much as reaffirming it for herself.

He nodded. "If it turns out that you don't remember anything and still think it's a bad idea once we're home, then it'll just take a call to one of my father's lawyers, like you said."

She paled at the thought of word getting back to his father about their impulsive elopement. The very nature of her grandmother's backbiting relationship with Logan's mother meant that Shira would undoubtedly pass on the information that Rory had been married and divorced faster than Britney Spear's Vegas-born fiasco, most likely at a society function for upped mortification value on Emily's part. "What about us, then? If we… can we go back to normal?"

He shrugged. "Honestly, I don't know. Maybe, but," he stopped to take a breath. "Do you think that we'll be happy, with that in the back of our minds?"

She had no idea. When she met him, she never believed he'd ever want to be her boyfriend. Once they were committed, after their break-up she assumed he would treat the matter like a failed experiment—but he hadn't. He'd convinced her that what they had was worth working on, worth fighting for. But never once had he suggested that he would ever want to get married—to her or anyone else in the future. The very idea of them as a married couple was only present in that moment, as they sat there holding hands on a bed the morning after the ceremony. She just hoped that Elvis hadn't presided over the ceremony. She had so many questions, she wasn't sure where to start. "Maybe you should start filling me in. And go slowly, please."

He smiled. "Okay. For starters, I would like it noted for the record that you were the one to bring up the idea of getting married."

Her mouth dropped open, and she let go of his hand. "That's not possible!"

He fixed her with a look of wounded pride. "I understand that you're going to have the urge to protest some of what I have to say, but if you could keep some of them to yourself, this might go easier."

She winced. "I'm not saying that it's impossible because of you, but I would never suggest getting married, drunk or sober. We're too young and I'm not done with school, and we're in Vegas, for crying out loud. Do you know how mad my mom will be when she finds out I got married without giving her the option to be there?"

He didn't argue. "I'll get to our families."

"You're being so very oddly calm about all of this," she whimpered.

"I stay very calm in moments of high stress. It's later that I freak out. So you should be prepared for that. I'm going to need you to keep me calm then."

She blinked at him, more than a few times. He was talking to her like she was his partner—his wife, in fact. That was a fact that was going to take more than a weekend to get used to. "I'll do my best."

He smiled at her response. "Remember how I told you we were looking at the fountain and you started yelling at me?"

The desire to defend her actions, even ones she didn't remember, welled up, but she did as he asked and didn't act on it. Her headache was starting to subside, thanks to the food, the water, and the aspirin; and completely in spite of the reality she was being briefed on.

"Yes."

"I didn't disagree with anything you said. I'd been feeling bad about the way I took off, leaving you in the lurch because of my own stupid pride, and when you called I decided that I'd come back early and arrange a red-eye flight back home."

"You were going to come back because of me?" she asked, touched by the sentiment. She made a mental note that next time they fought, she should call first and save them both a world of trouble.

"Yes. So when you were yelling at me, telling me all the things I was already thinking about myself, I agreed."

"You agreed with a drunken, angry rant coming from your irate girlfriend?" she asked suspiciously.

"You were right." He said it without pride, something he wasn't entirely great at. Logan was a lot of things, but not necessarily overtly humble. She stared at him with a renewed sense of awe.

"People were watching us, which makes sense seeing as we were yelling and then kissing in front of a huge crowd. While we were kissing, they actually started applauding. You held onto me really tight and pressed your cheek into mine. I figured you were embarrassed, but you whispered in my ear that they were all probably expecting me to drop to one knee right then and there after the show we just put on."

There was no way that he was that suggestible. Even on her best day, which that clearly was not, she wasn't that persuasive. "And so you did?"

He laughed. "Not hardly. But it put it in both of our minds. The crowd broke up and we took a walk. We started talking about the fact that if we wanted this relationship to last, we had to be able to confide in each other about everything."

Her mouth grew dry. "I can't argue with that logic."

"You didn't argue then either, but you did have a question. You asked how long I saw this relationship lasting."

"I had no idea I was so chatty when I drank," she commented, figuring she could find fault with her part in this as long as she kept quips about him to herself.

"You said yourself, drinking tends to highlight a person's true nature, and you are verbose even when you're three-sheets to the wind," he informed her with a measured amusement.

"I'm learning so much about myself today—I'm a loquacious drunk and I'm married." She wondered if she'd upset him as he took a breather. "Not that either of those things are bad," she urged.

"Do we need to take a break? It's a lot to take in, and we've only just finished breakfast. We could get out of here, I mean, it's Vegas, there are a million types of distraction here."

"I'm okay, really. We should at least get to the part where we get married."

He nodded, ready to grant her request. "I told you that I had no thoughts about ending the relationship, and you got kind of quiet before you asked if that meant I wanted to get married eventually."

It wasn't as bad as she'd expected, but at that point she wasn't quite sure what she should expect. "That's not really a proposal."

"It wasn't. But I told you that I'd given it thought, what it would be like to be married to you. Then I asked if you'd ever thought about marrying me."

She almost didn't want to hear what her drunken alter-ego had admitted to, but seeing as they did in fact get married it was water under the bridge. "What did I say?" she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

He held up her left hand. "You'd thought about it."

She felt embarrassed at the confession, even in the surreal moment of him telling her something personal about herself that she might never have admitted to him. Nothing felt normal anymore. She wondered if she would ever feel normal introducing herself as Logan's wife. Legally her name was still the same, but would she change it in a show of solidarity, theoretically becoming someone other than Rory Gilmore?

"It's normal to at least think about, isn't it, when you're in a long-term relationship?" she asked.

"I think so. I'd been thinking about it, a lot, actually. So much so that I'd stopped at a jewelry store on my way back from the fight, not with any intent to make a purchase, but once I got inside, I saw an engagement ring and I asked to see it and suddenly I was walking out with it."

Her eyes blinked and her only words came out in starts and stops. "You… bought… yesterday?"

"This ring," he said, gently running this thumb along the underside of the band and her ring finger.

She was beyond speechless. "Logan, I don't even know what to say."

He looked at her with renewed resolve. "Last night, when I showed it to you, you said yes."

She considered the ring. It was perhaps the single most stunning piece of jewelry she'd ever seen, aside from the Crown Jewels her mother had insisted on visiting while they were in London. Never in a million years had she ever envisioned anything of its ilk on her finger. "I can see why. It's amazing. Completely perfect," she assured him. "More than I deserve. I can possibly wrap my head around the fact we got engaged last night, but why did we decide to get married right away?"

His expression didn't give much away. "You made a joke about our families freaking out when we broke the news, except as lightly as you tried to put it, it was more of a concern than anything else. You said that if we wanted to get married without warring relatives and angry socialites, we'd have to elope while we were in Vegas and present it as a done deal after the fact."

"And you thought it was a good idea?" she cried out in disbelief.

"You had a point. My family isn't easy to marry into. It's not for the faint of heart, and even when it starts out as a decision made out of love, it gets trodden on by legal contracts and breakdowns of net worth and the monetary value of matrimony and party details and a million other idiotic niceties."

"You mean they'd want us to use a pre-nup?" she asked, hardly surprised. "Logan, I'm not interested in your money."

He looked at her seriously. "I know, but most other people are."

She sank back. "Oh."

"Yeah. It's not just protection in that regard, there's a whole clause in my inheritance related to marriage, and stipulations on what will be set aside for not only me and my wife, but also future children. It's the same deal that my father had, and his father had, with inflation and changes based on our updated net worth."

She frowned at that particular nugget. "So, you get more money if you're married?"

He shrugged. "It's more complicated than that. Look, the point is, we were happy, and we were impulsive, but we did this because we wanted to. It didn't come out of some ultimatum or panic or some outrageous attempt for me to show you that I was sorry."

He'd proposed and she'd accepted. That was the bottom line. When faced with the question—the kind of question that time to ponder wouldn't help her with—she'd chosen him. And when they thought of anything that might detract from their happiness, they'd chosen to bypass it. She smiled. "It really would have been a big show stopper if you'd pulled out the ring while we were at the fountain with the audience."

"Aw, Ace, you know I'm not showy like that. I got exactly the reception I wanted," he said as he leaned in and kissed her chastely on the mouth.

She put a hand on his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin and his heart beating faster than normal. "We weren't married by an Elvis impersonator, were we?" she asked with distaste.

He shook his head. "No, it was a Cher impersonator. He was really quite good," he said with a straight face, causing abject horror to cover hers. "Relax, Ace, I'm kidding. It was just a guy in a suit, and the next couple in line were our witnesses. They threw rice. You wrapped your arms around my neck and I twirled you around."

She smiled. "That sounds nice."

"Wish I'd sprung for the video instead of the champagne toast," he lamented.

She fervently wished she could make herself remember even the smallest detail of her wedding night, even being pelted with rice. She snapped her fingers. "I read this study, in a psych class I took where they did an experiment with electrical shocks to stimulate the brain in amnesia patients to regain access to memories. I could talk to my professor and see if," she said, stopping suddenly at the comically stunned expression he'd developed.

"I don't want you to have to zap your brain to remember marrying me."

She shrugged. "It was just a thought. I do want to remember. I just," she stopped again, this time out of melancholy.

"Don't," he supplied.

"I believe you. I just can't believe that we acted so…," she trailed off in thought grasping for the right word. Irrational, hasty, and rash all jumped to mind. She tried to temper them with the sweet story he'd told. It almost sounded exactly like them, except for the rushing to get married part. That bit just didn't fit with the them that she knew—at least not the them that she knew of late. The man she was sitting with was the same one that she'd jumped off scaffolding seven stories high with, the one that had rushed off with her without question to steal a boat, and who had driven her to swipe a bottle of champagne and get as undressed as possible in a spare room at her grandparents vow renewal. It wasn't the first time they'd acted on impulse due to their strong feelings for the other. The consequences were always present, save for their big jump—that hadn't resulted in the broken bones she'd anticipated; those had come later for him after an out-of-control jump he'd taken with his buddies. But she'd been there for him even then, despite her fear and her anger, for better or worse so it was. "Can we really do this?"

"Anything's possible," he said with something akin to certainty.

"Just because we cut them out of the process, that doesn't mean our families won't have opinions. Strong ones," she impressed.

He smiled. "Which is why we'll have to present a united, unwavering front."

"Like in war?" she added without irony.

"It will feel similar at times, especially at my house," he agreed.

"You're sure you want to do this? You realize that you'll have to attend Friday Night Dinners, at least when your work allows. And I'm not done with school, so we'll have to figure out a living situation that keeps me in New Haven. The commute to New York is an issue—not to mention if your dad decides to send you back to London or to Tokyo—what then?"

"You have doubts," he said easily.

"Don't you? Being with you is great, don't get me wrong, but we've never had to completely combine our lives. Making time for the other is different than being married."

"I admit it won't be as easy as the wedding. I realize it takes work and commitment and compromise. The question is, are you willing to do that?"

They were qualities she was usually fairly adept at, at least when it came to her school work. To put them into play in this way was an unknown factor; to apply them to a person for a lifetime. "I just need time to think about it. I'm not saying no, but," she said, praying that he'd accept her honesty for what it was. A promise of that magnitude deserved more than a drunken, if well meaning, acceptance. "I want to be sure, more than just us thinking it was a good idea last night. What if in a month from now we're both miserable and wishing we could take it back?"

He considered her question. "Maybe we need more than a weekend to decide. How about a month?"

"A month?" she parroted.

He nodded. "To try this out."

"You want to institute a trial period for our marriage?" she asked, just yet another thing she could barely believe was happening.

"It will give us time to see if it's working. And it'll take me at least a month to figure out what I'm going to do workwise. In a month you'll have a better idea of what you're going to do after graduation."

She wasn't quite sold. "So, we'll stay married and see if we like it?"

"We'll stay married and give it a real chance."

Panic washed over her anew. "Stay married." She stood up and paced for a minute, unable to sit still any longer. "If we do this, I have some conditions."

If he wanted to argue, he held his tongue well. He gestured for her to continue.

"I need to tell my mom alone."

He stood up as well, now ready to argue. "We should tell everyone as a team. Rory, everyone's going to try to talk us out of this. If we don't go together, telling them that this isn't negotiable, then someone's going to get to one of us."

"If I go to her and tell her that this is what I want, then she's going to be on our side. If we show up and ambush her with the fact that we got married in a blink of an eye like this… she's going to freak out. And she's going to be at the dinner when we tell my grandparents. We need her to not be sitting in the room, bringing up every last little reason that we shouldn't do this. You know my mom can't be quiet when she's mad. It's physically impossible. And," she hesitated, not wanting to bring up her mother's personal life with Logan without merit. "Things haven't been easy for her, with my dad leaving. I don't want to give her something else to be upset about right now. I want her to feel like she still has me, if she needs me. And she always needs me after stuff goes down with my dad."

He relaxed in surrender. "You handle Lorelai. But we tell Emily and Richard together. What about your dad?"

Rory crossed her arms. "I'm not sure yet. We're not talking a lot right now."

He put his arms around her, and she leaned into him while keeping her own arms locked around her body. She rested her cheek on his shoulder, relieved for the silent support. If they'd agreed to communicate more openly, it was a reassuring to know that everything didn't have to be expressed out loud. Luckily, she was used to her father disappointing her and the waves of emotion passed nearly as quickly as they came at that point in her life.

"We can figure that out later," he said softly as she pulled away, wiping away a couple of stray tears.

"What I do know is that until we're sure that this is what we both want, we need to keep our finances separate," she moved to her next condition to change the subject.

He was ready to argue again. "Rory, you don't have to prove anything to me in that regard."

She wasn't going to cave at his loving reassurance. "As things stand right now, as they stood last night," she emphasized, "We've shared expenses when we lived together, but we never combined our money. It would make things more complicated, later on, wouldn't it? I mean, it wouldn't be a simple annulment, it would be a separation of assets. That sounds like a divorce to me."

"We need to be realistic. Do you realistically think that keeping our money separate will make a separation feel easier?" he probed.

She tossed her hands in the air. "Honestly? I have no idea what would make any of this easier, but I'm making the best suggestions I can."

He backed down. "Okay, I get it. But you don't need to make the offer because you think it's what I want to hear."

"It's what I want, for me. I never want to be a kept woman. I want to be a contributing partner," she argued adamantly.

"Fine, for the time being, we'll keep our money separate. Got anything else?"

She came up empty then as she gave it thought, wondering when her mind would feel back at capacity. "Nope. I guess that covers it."

He wagged a finger at her. "Not so fast. Now it's my turn."

Her eyebrows shot up. "Your turn?"

"You get to name ground rules, then so do I. We're partners, remember?" he asked with his boyish smile.

Now it was her turn to watch him, her new husband, while wondering just what his conditions would be. She had a feeling that whatever he had on his mind would be a hurtle she'd have to work to jump.


	3. Final Negotiations

Trial of Error

Chapter Three: Final Negotiations

Description: Set just after Will You Be My Lorelai Gilmore? Logan heads off to Vegas with Colin and Finn, but Rory doesn't let it just pass without having her say. Unfortunately for Rory, what happens in Vegas isn't going to stay in Vegas.

Ship: Rogan

Rating: T

"It's a fact of life that we're going to fight on occasion."

She gave a half-snort at what seemed an outrageous understatement on his part. They'd had their fair share already, and some had been life altering. "I realize that."

"But what I don't want is that every time we fight for you to freak out and worry about me sleeping with other women or for me to have to ever wonder where you are and if you're coming home."

She was quieted by his mention of the worst of their bad relationship behavior. Even when they didn't actively engage in those things, they had a tendency to throw prior transgressions in each other's faces in effort to win an argument. She worried her bottom lip with her teeth. "I want you to know that I trust you. I have trusted you. Probably not as quickly as I should have, but I do. I didn't come here because I didn't trust you."

He smiled hopefully. "That's good to hear. And I hope you also know that I would never to cheat on you. But I need to hear that you won't take off. If we fight, we stand and fight together until we sort it out. We don't go to bed angry. We work things out together."

She nodded uneasily. It wasn't that it was an unreasonable request he was making—she just wasn't sure she could keep that particular promise. Her mother handed down more than her name and her penchant for coffee to her only daughter—she had trained her in the ungraceful art of running from her emotional troubles. Responsibility she could face, but emotional turmoil was not her forte. "That's your condition?"

He remained stoic. "One of them."

She swallowed a lump in her throat, realizing that if he was leading with this, he probably thought it was the easiest condition. "So, the next time we argue, you just want us to stay in a room until it's all worked out? Do we get bathroom breaks or food?"

"It's a marriage, not prison," he supplied glibly.

"But what if it's late and we're tired? You're saying I can't so much as sleep on the couch?"

"I think we should spend our nights together. We only have a month to give this a shot, and perhaps except tonight, I would hope this isn't even an issue."

She was a little grateful for his optimism, even if it was a woefully misguided. "I guess you're right. Newlyweds aren't known for their fighting," she said easily, softening to the request. "I will stay and fight."

"For us," he said passionately.

"For us," she repeated, feeling good about her intention.

"Like I said, if we're going to decide in a month, I don't think we should spend much time apart. Two days at the most at a time."

Her mouth dropped again. One might think it was possible to get used to so many surprises when faced with so many in such a short time frame. She never thought of herself as particularly shockable until now. "How is that possible? What about your work?"

It was a fair question. It wasn't unheard of for them to spend more than a week without seeing one another, and that's when they lived on the same continent. He wet his lips before continuing. "I told you I screwed up, right?"

She nodded slowly and her brow furrowed as she waited for the full explanation. "You said you lost all the investment money."

"Yeah. It's not just a mistake; it's a really big deal. I think it's enough to get my father to agree that it's time to part ways."

She blinked at that particular bombshell. "You're serious?"

"It's why I've been putting off his calls. I want to go to him with a clear head, so he doesn't think this is some rash decision I'm making. I don't want to come up under his wing, I never have. I want to make it on my own."

"Logan, that's noble of you and I know you're capable of anything you set your mind to, but are you sure? Won't that put a rift between you?"

He tilted his head. "Because I don't want to wreck the good thing he and I have now?"

"You know what I mean. I know you hate him sometimes, but he's your family. It's not easy to cut off communications with family."

"I didn't say I'd stop all contact. I do hope to stop the constant barrage of angry exchanges. Our relationship might even improve."

She gave a snide chuckle. "Yeah, until he hears you married me."

He ran a hand over hers. "You know I don't need their approval."

"I'd say you've proved that once and for all. So once you cut ties with your dad, what will you do?" she asked, wholly curious as to his honest answer.

"I've gotten some offers. Nothing I truly entertained before now, but I've built up contacts and I have enough money to fall back on until I find something."

"But how are we going to spend more time together while I finish school and we both interview for jobs?"

He smiled. "I'd be happy to bring you along to any of the exotic locales I get called to. And while I'm unemployed I can be your cheerleader and flashcard monitor."

She couldn't help but smile at his volunteerism. "Really, you're prepared to handle that kind of responsibility?"

He leaned in. "I know all your very specific and weird rules in regards to flashcards. I'm up for the task."

She blew out a breath. "You're really on your A game today, aren't you?"

"So you agree to hang out with me on a daily basis?" he smiled boastfully.

She couldn't help but return his rueful grin. "I suppose so. Is that it?"

He shook his head. "One more. You stay in school, even if that means you decide to go to grad school, no matter what anyone says to you about the duties of being my wife. All that matters is what we decide."

She felt the obligation to be far more honest with him than she'd even been with herself of late. "I don't know what I want to do after graduation. Like, at all. I've applied to all these options, and I don't know what scares me more—getting them or not."

"You'll know the right thing when it comes along," he offered sagely.

"And what if my right thing is in Maine and yours is in Texas?" she asked.

"What's in Maine?" he asked skeptically.

"I just picked two states far from each other to make a point. But they do have papers in Maine."

"You're going to have your choice of prospects," he said lovingly.

She shuddered. "That right there, that's what freaks me out."

"You'll make a list if you have to, but trust me, you'll know. And I will make it work with whatever I choose."

"You can't do that! Logan, I'm going to be making nothing—barely enough for me to live on, if that. The jobs you'll be looking for will come with actual salaries that could sustain many people. We can't live in a bubble."

"I know that, but you've been working your whole life for this, what's coming next. Because of me you lost more time toward this goal than you should have, but you got your momentum back and you should get to choose from all the options open to you. You deserve that. I'm just starting to piece together my next move."

"That doesn't mean you should defer to my decisions," she argued.

"I don't know exactly what I want my next job to be," he began slowly, but assertively, "but I know I want to be with you. I've seen what happens when you get derailed. I don't want to be responsible for that happening to you again."

It wouldn't be her first choice either, but they had to move past all that if they were going to try something as radical as staying married. "You think we can make it all work?"

"I'm offering the best suggestions I can to that end, yes," he said with a boyish smile.

A brief flash of a younger version of him entered her mind, mingling with the idea of marriage and all that could bring. His words from before, of the Huntzberger marriage contracts and talk of kids, entered the mix and she felt wholly overwhelmed again. "What exactly is the gist of the paperwork you mentioned before, about your money and being married and having kids?" she asked cautiously.

He cringed. "Listen, it's not something we need to worry about right now, or even a month from now, either way."

"If I'm going to do this, even for just a month, I have to know what I'm signing on for. What does the contract say?"

He hesitated but after looking into her demanding eyes for a beat he sighed, ready to relent. "I haven't read the whole thing. I haven't even seen it in years. My dad sat me down, in high school for what I thought was going to be a very uncomfortable talk about sex. Instead he started talking about protecting myself financially in the face of having a good time."

Her eyes widened. "He did not."

He nodded. "He expected me to have sex, as much as I wanted, but he warned that unwelcome pregnancies were my job to curb, and that one night of carelessness could lead to a large financial drain on my future earnings."

She scratched her arm. "I know your father isn't exactly touchy-feely, but I might have given even him a little more credit than that."

"Never underestimate the unfeeling coldness that my father can display. This is a topic he speaks about from experience. My mother knew exactly who my father was and what he might offer her when they went out. She got pregnant and my grandfather handed him over to the family lawyers and I'm sure the New York single scene went into mourning over his sudden ineligibility."

"Like the female contingent of New Haven wasn't devastated when you decided to be my boyfriend," she teased him airily. "The legions that are still awaiting our final demise."

"I think the number of women I went out with is largely inflated in your mind," he contended.

"Logan, when I first met you and you dragged me out to that first Life and Death Brigade event, I was told there was a line to get to you. A line, and it was made very clear that it was long and I was expected to get in back."

"You were nothing like any other girl I've ever met. You had open access to me. It was true the first day we met, and it is true now."

A rush of joy swelled through her, as it tended to do when he made her feel like the only woman in the entire world—a feat he was especially good at. A wave of familiarity hit her, a sense of wanting him, wanting to be a part of what he was describing. Logically she knew he was a charismatic personality, capable of drawing anyone in. Despite knowing better, she couldn't help but want to give this a shot. "I want you to know that I don't know how this is going to work, or even if it will, but I hope it does."

He kissed her, his actions a blur of lips and heat. He'd been so tentative with her, letting her try to absorb the situation, not pushing her to any end. Her words of encouragement had prompted him to leave behind his placidity and speed toward her like a bullet. He pulled her robe apart with his hands, baring her shoulders first. His lips followed the exposure of her skin, and soon she was on her back with the robe underneath her, splayed out like an open blanket on the bed. Her rings were her only adornment as he covered her with his body.

He took his time showering her body with attention, and from her vantage point she noted distinct blood bruising on his shoulder. She ran a fingertip across the blemish on his skin. "Logan, did I… ?"

He barely glanced in the general direction of the battle wound. "Yeah, last night."

She gulped. "So we," she began, carefully selecting her words, "consummated things?"

"Even if we hadn't, aren't we about to now?" he asked, running his open hand up her torso, over very sensitized areas that made her shiver in delight.

"It's just so surreal, to see all this evidence of things I did and not remember any of it."

"You should talk to Finn," he suggested.

"About sex?" she shot back, highly skeptical of his helpfulness.

He laughed into her stomach. "God, no. But he has a tendency to drink and forget. But things come back to him eventually, I think. Sometimes it comes back in the wrong order, but from what I can tell it's not lost forever."

She looked hopeful. "You mean you think I'll remember last night?"

He seemed encouraged as well. "If you want to, I think you can do anything you set your mind to."

She lightly scraped her fingernails down the side of one cheek, catching the stubble as she went. "I might be a terrible wife."

He shook his head, his eyes blocking the option. "Not possible."

"Good wives don't forget their vows."

His smile was contagious, if a little mischievous. "You promised to love, honor, and obey, and bow to all my whims."

"I did not," she argued playfully.

He made a noise, drawing air in sharply through his teeth. "I wonder if they have transcripts."

"I think your best bet is security footage," she offered genially. "Or you could just tell me what exactly the vows said."

He pulled himself up to kiss her on the lips, deeply and fervently. He eased back, leaving her in a state of suspended animation—eyes still closed and lips still feeling the pressure of his against them. His words came softly in her ear. "We made our own."

His words resonated throughout her. "Did we?"

He kissed her cheek and his nose grazed her hair. "You insisted."

If the words she'd chosen were indeed being held captive in the recesses of her brain, she hoped that they'd float to the surface sooner rather than later. It felt dishonest to be in his arms like that, in such a romantic moment, without access to that memory. She contemplated what words she might choose, especially on the fly, about what marrying Logan would mean to her. In that instant, she only had one source for such information. "What did I say in my vows?"

He didn't hide the hurt that her question evoked. No one wanted to be forgotten, and the thought that she could lose what was arguably the most important hour of their lives to that point had to be upsetting to say the least. She accepted the responsibility for having hurt him, without any attempt to remove herself from the situation. She'd promised, a real promise that she remembered vividly. So she waited for him to speak.

"I could tell you, and it's not that I don't want to tell you, but," he paused, taking a deep breath in the interim. "But I'd prefer to wait and see if it comes back to you. If it doesn't, then," he cut off at the sound of his cell phone ringing. He glanced at it in irritation, but kissed her quickly as if to put their talk on hold. He rolled off of her, reaching his arm out to snag the ringing device. "Hello? Hey, yeah. What are you worried about me for? You drank half of Nevada last night. Yeah," he said again, his eyes flickering to Rory and holding as he finished his call. "Yeah, I'll see you there. Bye."

"Finn?" she guessed.

"Colin," he edited. "Finn's with him, and they're starving. We're going to meet for breakfast in a half an hour."

"Right. Well, I'll just send my clothes to housekeeping and watch TV for a while."

He stared at her in disbelief. "You aren't coming with me?"

She slipped her arms back into her robe and sat up. "They don't know I'm here, do they? You said you left them and then bought the ring, then found me, so, they're just expecting you, not us."

"Except you showed up and I found you and we got married. Just because you've already eaten, that's no excuse for you to not come with me, unless you're not ready to face this yet."

She balked. "I didn't say that. It's just… well, they're going to think it's a big joke, aren't they?"

He crossed his arms. "If that's how we present it, maybe."

She tossed her hands up. "It's Colin and Finn. I know they're your best friends, but they don't take much seriously, except for drinking and hopping planes to Vegas. They're going to assume it's either a joke or a huge mistake that we'll clear up once we're back home."

"Then it'll be our first chance to present a united and serious front to people we know. Who would you rather tell first, them or my father? Or perhaps your mother?"

She gaped at him. "Logan, I just found out and it's still sinking in. I don't particularly feel up to telling anyone just yet, not until I've absorbed it."

"We agreed," he reiterated. "We can't back off when it gets hard or we don't feel like dealing with it. That's not what marriage is."

She let out a bark of laughter. "You're hardly a marriage expert," she jabbed.

"Our month starts today. If we are going to figure this out together, then it starts right now. If you want to wait in the room and go home and get an annulment, that's fine, but if you want to give this a shot it starts right now. We go downstairs and have breakfast with my best friends."

She swallowed her bitter jokes and her uncertainty. She looked at him sheepishly. "My clothes smell awful, I can't wear them."

"I'll call the concierge and have something sent up from one of the shops downstairs."

"I can do that," she supplied quickly, but he held up a hand in protest.

"It starts now. I am your husband, let me help you. Besides, what are the chances your credit card is at its limit at the moment?"

"I'll pay you back," she promised.

He held her gaze. "Think of it as a wedding gift," he said as he stood up. "And you should realize that there are lots of ways to repay me that have nothing to do with money."

That was enough to quiet her. He picked up the hotel phone and began the process of obtaining her a fresh outfit. He held the receiver away from his mouth. "Where's your phone? I'm surprised it hasn't been ringing off the hook with you off the grid like this. Can the paper survive more than an hour without consulting you?"

All the blood drained from her face. It hadn't occurred to her to check her phone—to even make sure she hadn't left it somewhere during her drunken escapades in Las Vegas. "My phone, I'm not sure," she said as she scrambled off the bed and grabbed her purse, upending the whole thing onto the mangled bedspread. He watched her in amusement, as he spoke to the front desk and put in his order, as she made a mess of her usually organized belongings. She pushed aside pens and her wallet, a couple of tampons and a few condoms she'd kept handy since he'd happened into her life and the option for sex became more frequent and away from her living quarters. A book lay on the bottom of the heap, having been her attempted distraction on the plane. There were a couple dozen chips from the casino, in surprisingly large denominations. She held up a couple in wonder. Deciding she'd figure their presence out later, she grabbed her phone from the rest of the pile. One touch failed to make it spring to life. It was off. She took a steadying breath and turned it on. The process of warming up seemed to take a lifetime, and it was the time when her normal life and her newly altered reality were being sewn together. There was a contingent of people, everyone she'd ever known excluding Logan and the precious few people in the wedding chapel, that believed her to be exactly who she had always been—a fairly independent journalism major, just months from graduating and bursting out into the world on her own. That was the nature of the messages that would be on her phone, but the person answering said calls was a newlywed with a month in which to figure out how to mesh the two parts of her life together.

"Ohmygod," she breathed as her voice mail alert sprang up on the screen.

"Bad?" he asked, coming up to look over her shoulder. "No rest for the weary, Ace. What did you expect? Did you tell anyone you were coming?"

She shook her head. "No, but, twelve voice mails? That's not including the texts. Look, there are fifteen texts from my mom alone. Lane, Paris, Bill—I'm surprised he cut himself off at eight—and my dad."

"No one says you have to answer every last one. You know anything from Paris isn't urgent or tied to reality in any way," he reasoned.

She smiled at him. "She means well."

He scoffed. "That doesn't make her less insane."

She couldn't argue that. "Sadly, it doesn't. Mom wants to set up a shopping date, she needs shoes, she says, which is code for guy trouble that she needs to talk about."

"That's why women shop for shoes so much?" he asked.

She regarded his lack of understanding with a simple nod. "Well, that and they're pretty."

He kissed her cheek. "So are you."

"Here's one that says she went to Luke's for coffee—that's a huge step for her."

"It says she argued with Kirk about twinkly lights," he read it for himself, not understanding the implication she'd gleaned from it.

"When she stopped in for coffee," she finished reading.

"It doesn't say where she stopped. More than one place in Stars Hollow serves coffee, which admittedly is a feat for a town its size," he allowed.

"Kirk isn't allowed in Weston's anymore, and those are the only two places she will get coffee in Stars Hollow. Back in high school, she and Luke had a falling out and she tried every place in the tri-county area. Trust me, I know, because she dragged me to all of them with her."

He paused, already regretting the question he was about to ask. "Why isn't Kirk allowed in Weston's?"

"He had too much Founder's punch a couple months ago and had an American Pie moment with the Weston's display," she said, not thrilled to pull up that mental image, let alone share it.

"There's something I can't un-hear," he declared.

"Yeah," she agreed, still scrolling through her messages. "Okay, the texts are fine, until the end where Mom stops with quick updates, and starts with 'where are you' and 'call me' and nothing else."

"So call her. Let her know you're okay."

"Yeah, but… I can't tell her about this on the phone."

"So don't tell her."

She sat down on the edge of the bed. "She'll know something's up. I can't just call and act nonchalant and say I'm in Vegas with you and I'll explain when I get back."

"Just tell her you're with me and we're working things out. Be vague."

"It might work," she reasoned, though she was far from convinced.

He sat next to her and put his hand over her screen. "Look, the clothes will be here in a minute, and we'll go down and see the guys. Deal with what's on your phone when we get back. It's not like anyone that left you messages will show up here and storm the place, right?"

She smiled sheepishly. "One thing at a time?"

"I think it's the only way we'll survive this."

She noticed he hadn't let go of her hand or her phone. "I'll turn it back off for now."

"Don't worry, Ace. It's just Colin and Finn. And there will be mimosas."

She kissed him as her phone powered down. "You always know what to say."

"I'd save that judgment until after I've spoken to my father," he said softly.

"Hey, one thing at a time. My phone's off now and your dad's isn't here. It's just us. And the two Darryls."

"I love you."

There was a knock to the door, the arrival of her new outfit, or in all actuality three new ensembles that she hadn't expected. Logan tipped the bellman as she selected one and disappeared into the bathroom to change. He was alone and tying his shoes when she came out.

"I just needed one," she said lightly, a gentle reprimand.

"It's a husband's right to dote on his wife. I think it's in the Bible."

"Since when have you ever even cracked the cover of a Bible?"

"I took a comparative religion class."

She chuckled as she pushed a palm to his back. "Come on, let's go freak out Colin and Finn."

-X-

"It was epic. I've never seen a grown man cry so much!" Finn declared gleefully over the aforementioned mimosas.

"I was not crying, I told you I got ice in my eye," Colin argued hastily. "That guy beside us threw his cup up and it went everywhere. I was hardly the only one outraged at the outcome. Those were astronomical odds; it wasn't even mathematically possible."

"Mathematics never was your strong suit, was it, mate?" Finn asked, still amused by his friend's torture. "Logan!" he shouted as he saw him enter the room with his arm around Rory. "Wait, do my eyes deceive me?"

"Now it's a party," Colin added, smiling at the duo that joined the table.

"How can you see anything with that ice in your eyes?" Finn teased him. "To what do we owe the pleasure of your company?" he asked Rory.

"If I had to guess, it would be because he did something stupid," Colin said, "but they look happy, so apparently he's made up for it by now."

"Perhaps more than once," Finn added with a knowing wink.

"Actually things are going quite well with us," Rory said, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear with her left hand.

Colin's face froze. "Did that come out of a box of Cracker Jacks?"

Rory wiggled her fingers on her left hand for effect. "Oh, you mean this?"

"One, two," Finn counted aloud, "Colin, there are two rings. Logan, why are there two rings on her finger?"

Logan smiled at their byplay. "Have another drink, boys. Rory and I got married last night."


	4. Gotta Start Somewhere

Trial of Error

Chapter Four: Gotta Start Somewhere

Description: Set just after Will You Be My Lorelai Gilmore? Logan heads off to Vegas with Colin and Finn, but Rory doesn't let it just pass without having her say. Unfortunately for Rory, what happens in Vegas isn't going to stay in Vegas.

Ship: Rogan

Rating: T

Colin simply stared at the two of them, gaging whether or not he was experiencing hallucinations due to a tragically bad hangover. Though from Logan's comments and the fact that he was already drinking again before his breakfast arrived Rory had to wonder if he was coping with aftereffects or just powering through until his liver put up a white flag.

Finn, however, was more alert than some. "She's pregnant."

Rory's eyes widened as her head shook back and forth. Logan's mouth firmed into a straight line. "No!" she exclaimed. "Why would you assume that?"

"Forgive me, sweetheart, is isn't that you look any less ravishing than usual, but in my experience when two people go from not engaged to married in the course of less than twelve hours it's either due to extreme inebriation or a positive pregnancy test."

"I don't know how you do it, Finn, but I am at once touched and insulted, yet again."

"Married?" Colin broke in, as if fighting through a haze.

"So, if she's not pregnant, you were both completely snockered, am I right about that at least?" Finn asked earnestly.

"You should start a list," Logan said, tucking his chin in toward her ear.

She turned to him, not understanding. "A list?"

"Of all the excuses people throw at us, for why we might have done this," he explained.

"Why would I want to compile these ideas in one place?"

"Because one day, when we're celebrating our silver or gold anniversary it will be funny to see how wrong all our loved ones were," he explained with a smile on his face.

"Married?" Colin asked again, this time more exasperated. "Guys, what the hell did happen last night? You were going back to the hotel to sleep or pout or something. You were unusually quiet and weird, but you didn't seem like you were thinking about marriage."

"How does one seem like they're thinking about marriage?" Logan asked, still somewhat amused by his friends rationale.

"Well, they might appear pale or stricken. Or perhaps that's just how I might appear in that situation," Finn supplied.

"Look, guys, the truth is that I've been thinking about this for a while, no matter what it seemed like. You know that I felt bad about bailing on Rory when we came out here."

"Yeah, but Rory's cool," Colin said. "She gets that you needed to get away. And it's not like you wouldn't have made it up to her. Is that what this is?"

"I don't think an engagement ring is the standard gift for making up for missing a baby shower," Finn disagreed. "I think that's a sapphire necklace."

"We did not get married because of pregnancy, alcohol ingestion, or to make up after his having bailed on me," Rory exclaimed, making her head throb in a not so gentle reminder that alcohol had played a role in her evening. She looked to Logan pleadingly.

"We got married because it's what we wanted," he said evenly, eyeing both of his friends to let them know he was up for whatever further challenge they might offer him on the topic.

Colin and Finn glanced at one another, and Colin burst out laughing. "Mitchum's head is going to explode."

"As if you weren't in for a world of hurt about the botched business deal," Finn added. "Unless you're planning on skipping the country and starting a new life together. Is that why you got hitched?"

Rory grabbed her mimosa and started to drain it. She felt Logan's hand on her back, rubbing in slow back and forth passes. "Finn, I don't expect you guys to understand the desire to get married, but I do expect you to respect the fact that we do and that this has happened," Logan said firmly.

Colin was visibly sobered by the words. "Hey, guys, it's not that we're against the idea. We've always said that dating you is the smartest thing he's ever done."

"You said that?" Rory asked, still a little dubious of their sincerity.

"It comes from a place of pure jealousy," Finn said solemnly. "And it does sting a bit, to know that you didn't so much as invite us along when we were in the same hotel as you."

"We didn't tell anyone," Rory explained. "It was very spur of the moment."

"And not only were you guys completely wasted, but I didn't think you'd mind not being dragged out of bed to be our witnesses," Logan added.

"You didn't tell anyone?" Colin asked.

Logan shook his head. "It went from me proposing to us in a chapel very quickly. There wasn't time to tell anyone. I asked Ace if she needed time to call her mom or anyone else, and she pulled me into the chapel and ordered a wedding at the receptionist's desk."

She turned to him, surprised, holding the drink from her lips. "Really?"

"You don't remember?" Colin asked.

"What?" Rory asked, turning to him as if she wasn't clear what he was referring to.

"She was drunk," Finn cried happily. "I knew at least one of you had to be out of their right minds. I mean, Logan—you didn't even get a proper send off into the land of legalized monogamy!"

"Is he talking about a bachelor party?" Rory inquired.

Logan sighed. "I don't need a bachelor party. We don't need a big wedding or any of that showy stuff to get us ready for this. It's already done, and we would appreciate your support. Telling you guys is the easy part. Once we're home," he led.

"Mitchum and the Gilmores," Colin said with a low whistle. "You might want to reconsider fleeing the country and starting a new life. With assumed names."

Rory put her hand on Logan's leg and searched his eyes worriedly. "It's a way to go."

"If you do insist on telling your parents, you might want to leave out that Gilmore was drunk," Colin reasoned.

"How drunk were you, Love?" Finn asked. "Just happy enough to be agreeable or you had a rather rude awakening this morning?"

"Well," she said unevenly, glancing at Logan for signals, "There were a few gaps."

"The end of the night a bit of a blur?" Colin checked.

"A bit. And little before that, too," she admitted.

"How much before?" Finn prodded.

"Well, I remember being in the hotel, waiting for Logan," she began.

"And him showing up and popping the million-dollar question?" Finn asked.

"Um," Rory shifted uncomfortably as she stalled. "Not exactly."

"She doesn't remember a thing?" Colin asked.

"It will come back to her. And you two can't say a word, I don't care what kind of pressure my dad lowers on you," Logan said, his finger pointing at them in earnest.

"It will come back to me. Everything he told me, it sounded right," she said with a slight nod of her head, at attempt to coax her brain to remember. "He said you've forgotten things while you were drinking and remembered later," she said to Finn.

"Yes, but I've never woken up married. I did once wake up in an empty bathtub with a very wet duck and all my toenails painted in zebra stripes. I wish I hadn't remembered the details that led up to that," he said with a shudder.

"But you did?" she checked, hoping he wouldn't elaborate.

"I did, though not all at once. Bits and pieces, they resurface like a dream. A little foggy and incomplete. It may take a little time, though, I can't promise you'll be prepared for a standoff with the Huntzberger legal team. They'll hook you up to a lie detector test and put you under the interrogation lights. At least that's what they did the time your grandfather's watch went missing after that epic party you threw freshman year," Finn said, as if recalling good times.

"There will be no interrogation. She's my wife, end of story. Whether or not she remembers every last detail, she's fully cognizant and capable of making her own decisions now."

"I just can't believe it. It seems like the end of an era," Colin waxed nostalgic.

Logan smiled at Rory. "And the beginning of a new one."

Finn raised a glass. "To the happy couple. May you survive your relatives and live happily together until you are old and senile."

"Even I'm sure that's not what the vows said, Finn," Rory said with a glare.

"This is why I would have made a superior best man," Colin said, raising his glass.

"More proof that eloping was the only way to go, and that my wife was brilliant for pointing that out," Logan announced.

They all clinked glasses and finished their first round as their food arrived. They might have the stamp of approval from his dearest friends, but the exercise had not instilled her with the greatest confidence in regard to sitting down with their families.

-X-

Rory sat on the hotel bed, watching Logan as he came into the room and kicked off his shoes. He sat down next to her and kissed her temple. She leaned her weight into him and relished in the simple comfort of his touch. "That was weird."

He chuckled. "It's Colin and Finn. It's always a little weird."

"Do you think we should wait to tell everyone else? What's the real rush?"

"It's never going to be easy to tell them, and waiting won't help. It's going to be a shock, but if we wait it will be a shock and the added hurt of us keeping it from them."

"Yeah," she agreed glumly. She rested her head on his shoulder for a while in silence, thinking over their late breakfast with Colin and Finn. "Did you want a bachelor party?"

"What?"

She pulled away to look at him. "You know, all the stuff that people do before they get married, like engagement parties and showers and bachelor parties, rehearsal dinners. Are you okay with missing out on all that?"

"That sounds like an awful lot of time with our families. Would you want to endure those evenings?"

"Not really," she admitted. "And I know it was my suggestion to skip it all. But I don't want you to think that I wouldn't have done it all. As tempting as it is to avoid it, it's not because I'm ashamed of what we did, or of you."

He smiled. "That's always good to hear. You're dying to deal with your messages, aren't you?"

She cringed guiltily. "A little. I should get back to Bill, at least that won't delve into my personal life. I'm good at shutting him down. And I think I'll call Mom, just to let her know I'm alive, or else she'll kill me when I get back."

"That's a good idea. I'm too young to be a widower," he teased.

"Very funny," she drawled.

"Make your calls. I'll arrange our plane tickets. I was thinking we'd have a proper celebration here tonight, and then leave first thing in the morning."

She cocked her head at him. "I thought we celebrated last night."

He kissed her. "We did. But I want one that you'll remember without waiting or undergoing hypnosis. And we might have missed all the stuff that leads up to a wedding, but we are going to celebrate all we want."

She smiled again, this time far more hopeful. "Okay."

"Okay. Call Bill before he's hospitalized for panic attacks."

She pulled out her phone and turned it on. "A little panic is good for him. His real danger is in what will happen to him if he's messing up the paper," she added.

He laughed as he held up his phone and made for the exit. "I'm going to head down to the bar and make my calls. Try to go easy on him, no one can do it as well as you can."

She rolled her eyes at his compliment and waved him off. She scrolled down to his number, but hovered her thumb over the screen. She exited out and dialed another number instead. Bill could wait. "Hey, Mom. You'll be pleased to hear that the rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated," she quoted, glad to hear her mother's voice answer.

"Rory? Where have you been? I called your place, but Paris said you haven't been home or checked in, and no one's answering at Logan's place. It's just his smug voice saying to leave a message and he'll get back to me, but apparently he's not afraid enough of me to call me back in a timely manner."

"Logan respects you, Mom," Rory said encouragingly, hoping to keep her mother open to the idea of his continued presence in their lives.

"Yes, but fear is so much better than respect when it comes to my daughter's boyfriends. Fear is power, my friend."

"Logan knows that keeping you happy is key to his continued existence, trust me."

"Is he right there next to you or something?"

"Not at the exact moment," she answered truthfully, glad to have at least that.

"But he's in the vicinity?"

"He's nearby."

"How nearby? And what else is nearby at the moment?" Lorelai we never into subtleties when it came to her daughter.

"It might be more effective to give you my GPS coordinates."

"Just let me get a pen," Lorelai said.

"I was kidding. I'm fine, and Logan and I are just working some stuff out."

"You had to go completely off the radar to do that?"

Rory thought about the question. Was what they had done necessary? Was coming out to Vegas to confront him something she could have avoided? If she'd waited for him to come home, would he have thought twice about proposing? There was no way for her to know if she'd have accepted given different circumstances. It was too late for her to wonder what might have happened. She had enough to deal with given what had happened. "I think so. Look, things are good."

"You at least let him know how much it bothered you that he bailed on the baby shower, right?"

"I definitely expressed my extreme displeasure," she assured her mother.

"Good. And it might not be my place to say so, other than the fact that I am your mother and I love you therefore having your best interests at heart, but don't just let him make a big show of repentance and get away with his bad behavior. He needs to put the work in. You deserve that."

Rory swallowed. "You mean like promising to spend his whole life making it up to me?"

"That might be a little drastic," Lorelai joked, assuming Rory was as well. "You get my point."

"Loud and clear."

"Good. So, you and your phone have been reunited for good?"

"I'm working my way back on the grid. It's kind of sad that I can't turn my phone off for a few hours without people freaking out."

"Yes, well, some of us love you and are very co-dependent," Lorelai added. "Speaking of which, when are you coming home to see me?"

"Soon."

"Soon as in after five hundred important deadlines you're currently under?" Lorelai probed knowingly.

"No, soon, as in tomorrow."

"You're placating me," she said, questioning the validity of Rory's promise.

"Nope. Tomorrow. I'm coming and we're hitting Luke's."

"Sounds like old times," Lorelai said wistfully.

"We can go somewhere else, if you're not up to it yet."

"No. No, I mean, I'm not quite back to my regular status, but I've been back. It's the first step that counts. Pretty soon he might even look at me when he takes my order."

"Give it time. You two have been through a lot."

"Yeah. So I'll see you tomorrow then."

"Yes, you will."

She put the phone down on the bed next to her and stared at it as she went over the conversation in her head. She'd made it through the call without setting off too many warning bells. Once she told her mother about the impromptu wedding it would feel real—being married, being Logan's wife. Nothing much felt true until she shared it with her mother, her whole life it had been like that. Her mom had always been her partner and her best friend. Breaking the news that she had sworn to be Logan's partner and best friend for the rest of her days would be a shock for the both of them.

-X-

They'd walked through the main part of the restaurant, filled with insanely beautiful people in even more beautiful clothing, drinking expensive cocktails like it was dollar beer night. He kept her hand, only looking back at her as she took in the ambiance as they were led into the back and up the stairs to a private balcony. The hostess pulled out her seat and left them alone.

"Nice place," she said with raised eyebrows.

"You're teasing me," he accused. "You don't like it?"

"No, it's amazing. I feel under-dressed," she admitted.

"You look perfect," he assured her. "Besides, we're not down there where you might be compared to anyone else—we're up here, above them all. We can do all the judging we want."

She perked up. "Can we play the game?"

He smirked. "You know it. Who should we start with?" he asked as they scanned the crowd.

"Oh, him, the guy with the soul patch and the gold chains nestled in his chest hair hitting on the blonde."

"I'm really glad there isn't more than one guy that matches that description. Who wears a soul patch anymore?"

She smacked his hand as they leaned toward the clear partition. "Play!"

"Okay, okay. Let's see, clearly he's lost. He thinks he's in Atlantic City and he's telling her that she would be the most beautiful woman he's ever seen if she just had a better tan," he said, his voice cracking in laughter at the end.

"Nice. Next, three seats down, the cougar who is pouring drinks down that guy's throat," she said, giggles punctuating her speech.

"That woman should be ashamed of herself, that's all I have to say about that," Logan said immediately.

"You've never been with an older woman?" she asked.

"Not one that old," he informed her. "But you know who has?"

"Finn," they said at the same time, dissolving into more laughter.

"I tell you what, that man has earned every last punch line he's ever inspired," he said, extending his hand out for her to take. She did one more cursory glance through the crowd that they were selecting strangers from to amuse themselves.

"What do you think someone would say if they picked us out of a crowd?" she asked pensively, her humor fading.

"You and I aren't in the crowd."

"But what if we were, what do you think some random stranger would assume about us?"

"A random stranger would see two people—a devastatingly beautiful woman and a man that was lucky enough to marry her."

She blushed and ducked her chin, the motion making her hair fall partially over her face. "Logan, come on, seriously."

He grew more serious, at her request. "Do you know why my parents freaked out when I brought you home the first time?"

"You said it was because they were crazy," she remembered with a high level of clarity. If there were an evening she wished she could lose to alcohol, that would be up there.

"Well, yes, they are crazy, but their insanity was spurred by the fact that they knew I was serious about you, that things between us were likely to progress to marriage without intervention."

"Yeah, you sort of alluded to that as we ran out the door."

He eyed her sheepishly. "I knew neither of us was ready for all that. I'm not completely sure we're both there now, but at no point since I met you did I want to risk losing you."

"Random strangers would be happy for us. Happier than our families are going to be," she said sadly.

He shook his head. "Don't think about that tonight. Tonight we're surrounded by strangers and we're together celebrating. We'll deal with all of them soon enough and for a long time to come."

"Oh my God. I'm now related to your parents," she said, panic washing over her.

"Hey, Ace, slow down. Have a drink. Trust me, it gets so much worse than this," he said soothingly. "You gotta pace yourself. I realize you deserve to be welcomed into a better family dynamic."

His words surprised her. "I'm not upset about being bound to you. You have proved to me time and time again that you're nothing like your parents. I just never pictured them as part of our future together."

"And they won't be, not really. Not after Monday morning."

"That's when we're telling them?" she assumed.

He shook his head. "I have a meeting scheduled with my dad to discuss the ramifications of my last project. It's one of the calls I made earlier."

She nodded slowly. "You're really going to do it?"

"I am. For me, but more importantly for us. You deserve more than who I would become if I stayed under my father's thumb."

"You deserve that too," she replied, squeezing his hand. "Now let's drink. Just, you know, not too much."

"I can't wait until I can start teasing you about this," he said with longing in his eyes.

She hoped that one day it would be a funny anecdote, of how they accidentally did the right thing. She didn't want to think about what would happen if this went down in flames.

-X-

The room was dimly lit and filled with rows of empty chairs. She sat in the back row, staring at her shoes. Her stomach was in knots, feeling wavy and tight all at once, as if she were aboard a sea vessel in rough waters though her feet were firmly on solid ground. She was glad of not having to stand while she had no one to lean on. Time passed and stood still all at once for her as she sat on that chair.

"Look what I found."

She looked up, and saw Logan standing in the aisle holding a small bouquet of flowers. She felt a rush of emotion, powerful and all-consuming. Her ailments were forgotten as she rushed to stand and throw her arms around his shoulders. He easily caught and supported her.

"Careful, you'll crush them," he warned with a happy laugh.

"They're perfect."

The sweet smell of the flowers that she'd caught in their embrace was still fresh in her mind as she woke up in the middle of the night. Logan was lying on his stomach with his back exposed to her. The covers were pushed down around his waist and he made no sign of stirring at her sudden awakening.

She pushed at his shoulder with an open palm, lightly at first, but shaking him in quite an insistent manner when he first showed no sign of stirring. "Logan? Logan, wake up. Logan," she said with persistence.

A muffled grunt resonated from his pillow. She shook harder, so that his arm was jostled nearly out of its socket. "Logan."

He flopped over just far enough on his side so that his head was pointed in her general direction. His eyes remained closed. "Mmmm?"

"Are you awake?"

"No," he answered with his arm tucked around his pillow like a child might clutch a teddy bear.

"I just had this dream," she continued at his ability to answer at all, regardless of his low enthusiasm to chat at that hour.

"Was it dirty?" he asked without missing a beat, managing to pry one eye open just in case.

"No! It felt real, but I'm not sure. It's not something I remember, so I wanted to ask you."

Now he had both eyes opened and they were intent on her. "What was the dream?"

She retracted at his piqued interest. "I shouldn't have woken you up. It wasn't much, it's not like I'm even sure," she said, her hand soothing his bicep.

He pulled himself up on the pillows. "Tell me about the dream."

She smiled, encouraged at his support. "Flowers. I was in this dark, gaudy room, sitting in the back on this white folding chair, and you came up behind me holding flowers."

His expression was unreadable. "Is that all?"

She shook her head. "I got really excited about the flowers. Which isn't really like me, because most flowers are impossible to keep alive, and the ones that are cut are already dead."

"Yes, I've heard your speech about flowers before," he said with a droll tone. "The point is their beauty, not their shelf life."

"My point is, regardless of my feelings about flowers, these flowers were different. I was so incredibly happy about those flowers."

"Describe them."

He still didn't seem as happy as she was, but he'd developed a rather oddly serious demeanor. She wasn't deterred. "The flowers?"

"Yes, describe the flowers."

"They were yellow and white. I'm not sure what they're called, but you told me that I was going to crush them if I wasn't careful."

"Yes, I did," he agreed.

She was still as his words registered. "You did?"

"That happened. They called our names, and you said you didn't really look like a bride without a dress or a veil or flowers. So I told you to sit tight and I ran down to a flower shop that we'd passed on the way."

"That wasn't just a dream?" she asked, wanting to make sure.

"It happened just like that," he assured her. Relief shot through her, and it filled her with hope. She knew if she'd never remembered a thing about that night he wouldn't hold it against her, no matter how disappointed he was. She slid her body up against him, and he pulled her in even closer. Their celebration had continued in bed once they got back from their night out, but now they had something else to celebrate.


	5. Two Trips to Stars Hollow

Trial of Error

Chapter Five: Two Trips to Stars Hollow

Description: Set just after Will You Be My Lorelai Gilmore? Logan heads off to Vegas with Colin and Finn, but Rory doesn't let it just pass without having her say. Unfortunately for Rory, what happens in Vegas isn't going to stay in Vegas.

Ship: Rogan

Rating: T

Rory stood on the sidewalk outside the run-down apartment building that she had been calling home since Logan moved back to the States, holding the only piece of luggage she'd taken to Vegas—her purse. He leaned against the car he'd summoned to pick them up from the airport. Neither had spoken much since settling into the backseat; in fact she'd woken up once the car came to a stop in New Haven, finding she'd drifted off quickly while resting her head on his shoulder once they'd gotten picked up thanks to the early morning flight he'd arranged.

"So," she said lingeringly.

"I can come with you to Stars Hollow if you want," he offered for the final time.

"We agreed," she protested.

"I know," he said quickly. "I just thought I'd offer in case you changed your mind. I realize things might seem a little too real, now that we're back."

"Right." His words struck a chord with her. "Is that how you're feeling?"

He met her eyes evenly. "The thought of your mother sending out an APB with my picture on it isn't wholly awe-inspiring, but it's not enough to make me change my mind about us."

She smiled faintly. "I'd love to tell you how far-fetched an idea that is," she admitted. "But I'm a pretty bad liar."

"I've noticed." He glanced up toward her window. "What about Paris?"

"What about her?"

He gestured toward the upper story. "When are you going to tell her you're moving out?"

Her mouth dropped open. "I'm moving out?"

His puzzlement matched hers. "Aren't you?"

"Logan, do you realize this was not only my best option, but my only option for housing? There aren't going to be places to rent at this time of year. And I can't move into your apartment, it's too far away."

His eyes went wide with disbelief. "Rory, we can't live with Paris and Doyle."

"Why not? I've been doing it," she argued.

"Yes, and they drive you nuts. You have to wear noise-cancelling headphones if you want to study or sleep, when you do interact with her, half the time you're arguing, and Doyle only cleans up after himself because he's afraid Paris will hurt him if he doesn't," he listed all the issues she normally complained about. "Not to speak of how unsafe the building is, thanks to your 'neighbors,'" he finished up using air quotations.

"It's just a month," she reasoned, which was how she'd managed to survive living there thus far, breaking up her purgatory into manageable survival time periods. If what didn't kill her made her stronger, by the time she graduated she'd be able to pick up the whole building with one hand.

"It is just a month, that's what we agreed on to give this a real chance. I don't want to waste half of that or more dealing with Paris and her issues."

Rory was silenced. He had a good point. "But where else will we live?"

He squared his shoulders, suddenly resigned. "That's what I'll do while you go see your mom."

"You plan on finding a place to live in an afternoon?" She sounded far from optimistic.

He shrugged one shoulder. "It could be longer, if she tries to lock you in the attic or something."

She smiled at what he imagined possible in regard to her mother, which wasn't completely out of the realm of possibility. "I need a place close to campus."

"I know."

"And cheap."

"Rory," he sighed her name out, willing her not to argue every point.

"I'm going to contribute, remember?"

He pressed his lips together and nodded. "Anything else you'd like it to be?"

She cocked her head and thought. "It'd be cool if it was in walking distance of some shops or cafes."

He didn't argue that point. "A high walkability score is always a plus."

"A garage would be even better," she added.

"Cheap was your second demand," he said in astonishment.

"You asked what I would like, not what I would accept."

"Yes, I've gotten a clear picture of what you'll accept," he said, tossing a withering glare at the building again.

"Your contempt for my living situation has been noted, tagged, and filed for posterity," she assured him.

"So you'll let me find us a place?"

She stepped up and put her hands on his chest. "Are we negotiating again?" she asked cheerfully.

"In marriage, it's called compromise, but yes, we are."

"Can I give you free reign and reserve the right to call up the favor at a later date?"

"Let's just keep things as simple as we can for now. Trust me, things have been easy so far. Complexity is lying in wait."

She wrinkled her nose. "Well, you don't have to say it like that."

"Like what?"

"Like we're doomed. And where do you get that this has all been easy?"

"Hey," he said, pulling a finger under her chin. "We're not doomed. We're challenged. A little homeless at the moment. But not doomed."

She rolled her eyes at him, and he kissed her. She clung to his shoulders a little too long, lingering in the moment. She gave a little whimper. "I should get going."

"You just have to tell your mom you got married. I have to find an apartment that doesn't exist," he said with far too much good humor.

"I'm not that picky," she asserted.

"No, but you do like to argue."

She kissed him again. "I'll get plenty of practice with Mom. I'm sure I'll like whatever you choose. I trust you."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Really?"

"As long it's close to school," she said with a curt nod.

"Your mom might surprise you," he offered gently.

If it was one thing her mother excelled at, it was surprising people. "She might."

"Does doesn't hate me that much, does she?" he asked, suddenly less confident about her going on her own—or at all.

"She doesn't hate you. She just sees a lot of similarities between what made her unhappy and the lifestyle you're accustomed to. But as long as she knows I'm happy, she'll be fine."

He nodded, accepting the fact that she seemed to believe her rationale. "Okay, so we meet up for dinner?"

"Dinner sounds good."

He kissed her one last time. "Good luck. Keep me posted."

She nodded and watched him climb back into the car. Part of her wished she was getting in with him, but the news she was about to drop on her mother would be far better received one-on-one.

-X-

Lorelai was standing outside on the sidewalk, with her cell phone up to her ear as she spouted random sentences and darted her eyes around the town square. Rory approached her on foot, listening curiously.

"You need three dozen donuts delivered by midnight?" Rory asked, repeating the last thing her mother had said into her phone.

Lorelai turned and snapped her phone shut. "You're here!"

"Why did you hang up on your donut supplier?" Rory asked.

Lorelai shot her a knowing look. "I did nothing of the kind."

"Then who were you talking to about donuts and the fact that you were in favor of televised executions, and why?"

"Well, I need something to eat when I watch TV," she defended.

"You were stalling," Rory accused. "You were out here, pretending to talk on your cell so you'd have an excuse not to go into the diner, where the phone is prohibited. Which, actually, is kind of ironic because that rarely stopped you before."

"I was being considerate, and waiting for my party to arrive before getting a table," she supplied.

"Mom, it's not a five-star establishment with a waiting list to get in. It's Luke's Diner and I can count five empty tables from here."

She glanced in the windows. "It was busier earlier. Standing room only. And normally I'd have just snuck in at the counter, but that puts me near the register and the kitchen, and those are two places that Luke tends to linger."

"He's the proprietor. It's not like he can hide in the bathroom."

"It would make things a little easier for me if he could."

"We can go somewhere else. Weston's or Al's," she suggested, willing to patronize any public establishment nearby. If she told her mother in the privacy of their home, there would be no witnesses. It seemed wisest to at least curb her mother's desire to freak out when she told her the big news.

"No, no, we're here, and the good coffee is in there, and Luke still likes you," Lorelai reasoned.

"He still likes you too. He's just healing, the same as you are. And if you're feeling up to making amends, he probably is too."

"I'm not trying to make amends. I can't fix all that went wrong between us. I'm not saying I didn't have any blame, but I didn't have all the blame. There was so much, but it's all in the past. What's done is done. I'm looking to move forward."

"That's very mature," Rory agreed, hoping that viewpoint would stick with her mother for another half hour at least. She was looking to move forward herself, taking the past for what it was. She was going to trust Logan to find them a home and make a go of their marriage. The word still gave her a shiver.

"You okay? You turned a little pale there for a second."

Rory pasted a smile on her face. "I'm good. Let's go in, I'm starving."

"Then let's get you some food," Lorelai said, bravely forging onward for the sake of fresh beginnings and not letting her daughter starve on the street while she worked up her courage any further. The two women entered the diner and took a free table by the window. Lorelai slung her jacket over her chair back. Rory, however, remained in her coat and kept her gloves on her hands as she sat down.

"Are you cold?"

"No, why?"

"We're inside. Normally people remove their outerwear once they're indoors."

"Oh, right. I'm fine for now."

"Are you sure you're feeling okay?"

Rory picked up a menu and stared at it as if she'd never seen the offerings before, let alone had the whole thing memorized backward and forward. "I'm hungry. How long do you think he'll put off coming over here? Because I could go up to the counter and order for us."

"I think we have time to enjoy a little pre-meal discussion. If you don't want to talk about your extra apparel or your health, why don't we jump to how things are with you and Logan?"

Rory glanced down at her gloved left hand. "Things are good. I told you we worked things out."

"Yes, you were appropriately vague on the phone. I was hoping that a little face time would prompt you to offer details."

Rory hesitated. "Of our making up?"

Lorelai caught her meaning. "Oh, no, not that part. But what led up to that part," she said as if the words were confusing her.

"I think we should order first," Rory supplied.

Lorelai stared at her daughter with fresh scrutiny. "Oh no. No, no, no."

"You don't want to eat here after all?" Rory asked, concerned about her mother's possibly fragile psyche.

"No, it's not that. I'm saying no to all the obvious signs that are sitting across the table from me."

"What are you talking about?"

"You're keeping your jacket on to hide your appearance. You're starving. You and Logan had some kind of fight that led to him not coming to a baby shower with you, and you disappeared for two days to work things out alone," she said, putting the pieces together in a puzzle of her own making.

"None of those things are all that closely related," Rory began to argue, even though she knew just how they fit together in the jigsaw of her life.

"So you're not pregnant?" Lorelai demanded at the same time Luke finally approached with an order pad tucked in his shirt pocket, a pencil behind his ear, a coffee carafe in one hand, and two mugs in the other.

"I'll just come back," he said, his eyes darting quickly from Rory to Lorelai, finding no safe place to land before he turned and walked as far away from the pair as possible.

"Mom!" Rory chastised in a loud whisper. "God, no!"

"Then what is going on?"

Rory closed her menu and focused on her mother's concerned and confused eyes. "We got married."

Lorelai blinked, and then started to giggle uncontrollably. "Okay, I had that coming."

It was Rory's turn to be confused. "Had what coming?"

"I jumped to a wild conclusion and you came back with a crazy retort," Lorelai explained, but the longer Rory sat in silence, the quieter she became. "Right?"

"Well," Rory said, the urge to take the out appealing greatly in the moment. She thought of Logan, out scouring apartments for rent, trying to find a place where they could live together and thrive despite their very different needs at the moment. All she had to do was tell her mother. Her usually understanding mother. "It started with me going to Vegas, to read him the riot act for missing Lane's shower."

Lorelai's eyelids slid shut. "Oh no."

"He showed up, and I yelled at him, but he'd been making plans to come back early and see me and he'd bought an engagement ring on the way back to the hotel and then he proposed and bought me these flowers and we got married in a little chapel on the Strip," Rory confessed in a rush, to the best of her recollection.

"By Elvis?" Lorelai asked, aghast at the whole confession.

Rory shook her head. "No, not by Elvis."

"Then it's not a total cliché, at least," Lorelai said, thinking out loud. "So, what has to happen next?"

"What do you think happens next?"

"I may have just signed divorce papers after a quickie wedding of my own, but you two have only been wedded for a few hours. You can just get an annulment, right?"

Rory sat up and eased out of her jacket. Next she removed her right glove, then her left, laying them next to her napkin and silverware. "Not exactly."

"Holy Mother of Tiffany and Cartier! Is that the Hope Diamond?" she asked, picking up her daughter's hand and pulling it across the table for inspection. "I never thought your hand would feel heavy!"

"It's stunning, isn't it?" Rory agreed, admiring it again for the hundredth time in a couple of days. It kept taking her by surprise, along with its little buddy next to it which was plain by comparison.

"The whole thing is stunning," Lorelai agreed. "So where is he, your husband?" she said, the words sounding wholly foreign.

"Apartment hunting."

Now it was Lorelai who appeared pale. "You're staying married?"

"I know it's a lot to take in," she rushed her words out, wanting to keep her mother as calm as possible. "And I promise it's not because of unintended pregnancy or Logan's job or the fact we happened to be in Vegas or anything like that."

"But you have thought this through, right? Because I know you can see the light at the end of the tunnel at Yale, but you're not done yet. And you said he had some kind of major malfunction at work, so what if his dad decides to banish him to Siberia or something as punishment?"

Rory really wished her mother would have let them order before getting into the nitty-gritty of the situation. She could really use some coffee to go with the heavy dose of reality. "I'm going to finish school, no matter what. He's more than supportive of my education. As for his dad, that won't be a problem."

"His father lives to be a problem. It's what he's good at. He eats, sleeps, and breaths trouble, especially for the two of you," Lorelai contended. "You can't think that getting married will appease the Huntzbergers and get them to leave you two alone."

"No, we don't think that," she agreed. "But Logan's going to quit working for his father."

"He told you that?"

Rory nodded. "He did."

"Are you sure he's not just being fired?"

"That's not how Mitchum works. He'd rather teach Logan a lesson," Rory explained.

"Firing him would teach a lesson."

"Logan isn't going to be happy unless he gets out of there. It doesn't matter if he's good at the jobs his dad picks for him or not."

"I'd say losing that much money is filed under the 'not' category."

"It was a bad deal," Rory said wearily. "Logan couldn't have known going in."

"He's going to have real consequences in the real world. No one else is going to let him lose a fortune and move them to another department to try again there."

"He knows that. He's not immune to hard work. He's incredibly smart and probably overqualified for most jobs out there that will interest him."

"So, he doesn't have anything lined up yet?"

"Not specifically. He's going to talk to his dad on Monday and explore his options from there."

"So your husband is going to be unemployed, and what? Live off your money? Does he know that you don't have any money?"

Rory shot her mother a glare. "He knows my financial status. And he's unemployed, temporarily, but hardly penniless. We might have to be careful, but we'll be fine until we're both working."

"You trust him?" Lorelai asked, needing to hear the truth.

Rory nodded affirmatively. "I do."

Lorelai's posture relaxed from her fight-or-flight response. "You're really married?"

"I know it's weird and sudden," she acknowledged.

"That doesn't matter, if you're happy," Lorelai offered quietly.

"I am. It's not easy, having to tell everyone, but the rest of it, so far," she said, thinking over the highlights of their short honeymoon period, "Yeah, I'm happy."

"When are you going to tell everyone else?"

"He's going to set up a time for us to have dinner with his folks when he talks to his dad on Monday. And I've already got a standing date at Grandma and Grandpa's on Friday, so we're going to announce it then."

"Do you want me there?" Lorelai asked.

"Of course, why wouldn't I?"

"I don't know. I mean, I'll be able to hear Emily Gilmore shouting the news from the rooftops from here, so I wasn't sure my presence would be required."

"Grandma won't be that happy. I mean, it's not like we're letting her plan the wedding. The wedding's done."

"Still. She's been hoping for you to marry him since you first mentioned you'd met him. She might feel a little different once she finds out the silver spoon's been removed from his mouth, but he can't quit his genetics, and that's all she cares about anyhow."

"I hope so. It'd be nice to tell someone and have them be instantly excited instead of leery or sucker punched," she said with a sigh. "Not that I blame you. I know it's shocking and unexpected and all that."

Lorelai reached out and grabbed her right hand. "Hey, I am happy for you. You know that, right?"

Rory managed a smile. "I know."

"Good. Now, I really need coffee. Luke!"

It only took a moment for the flannel clad man to amble over. "You bellowed?"

"Yes. My daughter is married, therefore I need coffee STAT and also we would like to consume our body weight in sausage and pancakes."

"Actually, make mine bacon," Rory altered.

"Ooh, bacon. I'll have sausage and bacon."

"Instead of pancakes?" Luke asked.

"No, in addition to," Lorelai said seriously. "Wait, do you have blueberries?"

"I have blueberry pie," he offered.

"So make mine blueberry pancakes," Lorelai nodded at Rory.

"Oh, yes, me too," Rory said, smiling up at Luke.

"No, I have blueberry pie. I can't make blueberry pancakes," he said with a shake of his head.

"Why not?" Lorelai asked.

"Because the blueberries are already in the pies. Unless you want blueberry pie pancakes, there is no way I can make blueberry pancakes," he said wearily.

"Blueberry pie pancakes?" Lorelai asked dreamily.

"You're getting regular pancakes. And grapefruit," he added.

"I never said anything about grapefruit," she said as he walked away.

"If he brings me grapefruit, I'm making you eat it," Rory told her mother. "That was entirely your fault."

"You'll be thanking me when he breaks down and makes the blueberry pie pancakes," Lorelai said sagely.

-X-

Logan had just under two hours to spare, a miracle that he saw as more than fortuitous. He planned to take care of business, in this case better late than never, and even have time to do a little housewarming shopping before meeting his wife for dinner. Even in all the time they'd been together, he had never been sure he would ever end up with a wife.

He stepped purposefully up the stairs to the front porch, but paused before knocking. The hesitation came not from fear of what would greet him, but the knowledge that Rory would have prevented him from being there altogether. He knew that his technicality of obeying her wishes and not showing up while she was there would only get him so far. Even still, a man had to do what he thought was right. As he knocked on the front door, he knew he was doing just that.

Lorelai opened the door, and he watched several emotions pass over her face. In what was clearly a well-practiced maneuver, she wiped them all clear before she spoke. "Logan, hi. You just missed Rory."

He nodded. "I know. She just called me, and we arranged to meet at a restaurant in New Haven for dinner."

Lorelai shifted her weight, but did not budge from blocking the doorway. "I'd ask what's new, but I've just gotten a full update on all things Logan Huntzberger."

"Was it that unpleasant?" he asked, hoping for a shred of acceptance from his mother-in-law.

"Have you ever been forced to eat grapefruit?" she asked.

"Ahh, can't say that I have," he said haltingly, feeling as if a trap were being set. Rory was skilled at such tactics, verbal guerilla warfare, and it didn't take a leap to guess where she'd picked it up.

"Never mind. Listen, Logan, I've been through quite a lot lately, today included, and I'm guessing you came here to see if I'm having a voo-doo doll created in your image or if I'm going to be a friendly face across the Thanksgiving table, am I close?"

He let out a breath. "Actually I came here to let you know that this wasn't the original plan. I bought a ring, and I was going to come home and talk to you and wait until she was done with school."

"That long, huh?" Lorelai asked, clearly of the opinion that even then it would have been too soon, too rushed.

"I love her. More than anything—more than I ever thought I could love anyone or anything."

Lorelai's eyes welled up, if only just a little. "That's what I thought the first time I looked at her."

"I know I'm not your favorite person in the world, and I don't expect to ever be. But I know she is, and I know it would mean the world to her if you are willing to support us. She said you told her that you were happy if she's happy, but I wanted to make sure you knew that I was going to make sure she is happy."

"And you're really prepared to do whatever it takes to make her happy, for the next fifty years of your life?" Lorelai pressed.

"One day at a time," he said.

"Well," Lorelai said, considering his answer. "I promised Rory a long time ago that I would be behind her decisions in life. If that means having you around, then I guess I can live with that," she consented, with a small smile.

"Thank you," he said gratefully.

"You're welcome. Just don't ever, on threat of death, call me Mom."

"How about Lorelai?" he offered.

"Good. Oh, and one other thing. I would never tell Rory how to live her life, I've never done that and while I am always available to give her advice when she asks, I'll refuse to force my opinions on her."

He nodded. He'd seen it in action, the painful months Rory had endured as a result. "I know."

"But for what it's worth I will tell you this: just because the two of you rushed into this particular decision does not mean you can't take your time with all the others."

He caught what he thought was her meaning. "You mean having kids?"

"I just mean give yourselves time for any big change. It takes time to adjust to life changes. Being married isn't something people are instantly good at. It's advice I wish someone would have given me."

"I'll remember that. Thank you, again. I should go—I wanted to get Rory a housewarming gift."

"You found a place?" she asked, perking up.

"I did."

"I must admit, and if you tell anyone I said this I'll deny it, but if your first act as her husband it to get her out of that crappy apartment, you're setting the right tone as far as I'm concerned."

He couldn't help but smile at the fact she was admitting they had something in common, if just their hate for that crappy apartment. "I'm happy to get her out of there, but it honestly came down to the fact that I cannot fathom living with Paris. Rory must be a saint."

"Don't you ever forget it," Lorelai said as her parting words.


	6. Reality Bites Back

Trial of Error

Chapter Six: Reality Bites Back

Description: Set just after Will You Be My Lorelai Gilmore? Logan heads off to Vegas with Colin and Finn, but Rory doesn't let it just pass without having her say. Unfortunately for Rory, what happens in Vegas isn't going to stay in Vegas.

Ship: Rogan

Rating: T

Rory kept her eyes closed, but felt increasingly foolish the longer she let Logan lead her by the hand on the streets of New Haven. It'd been two blocks since they parked and got out, at which point he instructed her to show good faith and took her hand to help her out of the car and navigate the sidewalk.

"Are we close?"

"Very close," he assured her, still pulling her along as she stepped lightly and quickly in her high heels toward the unknown destination.

"If I'd known we were going for a walk, I'd have worn walking shoes."

"If you're done complaining, we're going inside. You can navigate stairs without looking, can't you?"

"Stairs? What restaurant is this again?"

"You ask a lot of questions for someone who is supposed to trust me," he answered.

She pressed her lips together and followed his lead across the threshold of a doorway. "I smell coffee."

"Of course you do," he said with laughter in his voice. "You're like a bloodhound for coffee beans."

"It's not that I would turn down coffee, but I've had a lot today, and I haven't eaten much. My mother made Luke mad and he kept bringing us fruit instead of meat."

"One more flight and you can rest and eat whatever you like."

"I need red meat," she complained.

"I can put you on my shoulder and carry you the rest of the way if this is a matter of weakness."

She would have rolled her eyes had they been open. "I can make it. You're sure it's not too much longer?"

"We're here," he informed her.

"I can open my eyes?" she asked with excitement as they came to a stop.

"Hang on," he said, putting a key into the lock.

"Did you buy a restaurant?"

He laughed. "I know my career options are open, but I'll let you know before I make any big decisions in that regard. Open your eyes."

Rory did as instructed, taking in the view that the open door offered her. "Where are we?"

He extended his arm out toward the dining table that was set with food, in an otherwise sparse space. "Welcome home."

"Home?" she echoed.

"I should carry you across, shouldn't I?" he asked.

"I thought we were having dinner," she said, ignoring his question.

"And I thought I'd surprise you by having dinner in our new apartment."

"Logan, it's," she began, trying to come up with anything other than the descriptor of small. She didn't need a big place, especially given that she had little furniture of her own, but it was definitely small and nothing like any apartment she expected he'd select.

"Let me tell you more about our new home. It's above a coffee shop. It's in the heart of a ton of restaurants and shops, and it's just a few blocks from campus—walking distance if you're fed and not wearing those heels. There's a parking lot for tenants in the back. It's not a garage, but it's dedicated. And I know it's small, but that makes it cheap."

She couldn't believe her eyes or her ears. "So this is our kitchen, living room, dining room, and bedroom?" she asked as she looked around the big open room.

"There is a door to the bathroom," he supplied. "You can go in."

She stepped out of the hall and looked around. The kitchen appliances were in place, and looked functional enough, especially with her penchant for take-out and quick meals. The dining room set he'd put in was small, a bistro table meant for two, but it would allow for more important pieces like a good-sized bed on the far wall and a couch and desk to be added. "Are you sure you won't mind the cramped living quarters? You can't be used to sharing this kind of space with someone. Your family had personal boundaries, I bet. I've seen your house; you practically had your own wing growing up."

"That was my father's house. This is mine, for now," he answered easily.

She leaned into his shoulder with hers. "I knew I smelled coffee."

"I knew you'd like that part, having that downstairs. And you have to admit, sharing a confined space with me is far more enticing than having your own bedroom across from Paris' room."

"I admit, it might have its benefits. I'm amazed that you found anything at all, let alone something that matched my whole list of desirable qualities."

He nodded to the table. "I thought you were hungry."

"I am," she said, turning in toward him and pressing her lips to his. He caught her weight as she leaned into him, intensifying the kiss. She grazed his cheek and nuzzled his earlobe. "There's no bed."

"I don't need a bed," he said, his words rushed out on an exhale. He flipped her around so her back was to the wall and eased her to it. "Not tonight."

"Where will we sleep?" she asked, what she thought was a reasonable question.

"I'm capable of roughing it on the floor, if you're there next to me. Tomorrow we'll go test out every mattress in the store."

"I have classes."

"We'll go after. I can pick our apartment by myself, but the average person spends a third of their lives in bed, and I think we might trend a little higher, so it's important we pick it out together."

"That's a lot of time in bed," she noted, as his lips returned to her skin, and his tongue ran along her collarbone.

"Well-spent time," he said, not needing to convince her with words as she practically melted into the wall behind her at his touch.

Clothes were shed effortlessly and she had only one other decorating tip as her breath became labored. "Before we get a bed, we should probably put up some window coverings," she said, indicating the adjoining floor-to-ceiling windows on the opposite wall. It made for a lovely view out their dining area, but left little in the way of protection for their current state.

"I'll just kill the lights," he said, reaching out for the wall panel. The light shifted from overhead to spilling in from outside, leaving them in streams and shadows. Her eyes adjusted to the shift, the transition made easier by the tactile cues of his body that were long-since known to her.

"Are we really going to sleep on the floor?"

He chuckled into her hair. "We could go back to your bed."

She shook her head. "Paris needs some time to … adjust to the news."

"It went that well, huh?" he asked.

"She's sure that you tricked me into this somehow."

"I guess asking Paris to believe in the power of love is asking too much, isn't it?"

"Asking Paris to bank on any human emotion other than rage is a recipe for failure. At least Mom was supportive."

"Did you tell Lorelai that you were drunk?" he posed.

She shook her head. "No. I didn't want her to think I viewed this as a mistake. I may not remember much, but I don't want to set it up for failure by prefacing the story with that kernel."

"It's okay to admit it's a risk. That's true of any marriage," he said. "I could hurt you or you could hurt me, but we're aspiring to something bigger than all that."

"We're aspiring to greatness?" she asked.

"I'm aspiring to greatness right now," he assured her, shifting his position slightly and making her fully aware of his meaning. He gave her no reason to doubt him that night.

-X-

She woke up sore. Her limbs ached and her back was less forgiving. She squinted at the sunlight pouring in the uncovered windows and noted that the hardwood floors were newly polished. They were not, however, comfortable.

"Logan," she said, her elbow prodding his ribs. "Get up."

He grunted, clearly not as eager to get off the floor as she was. His forehead was pressed down into his forearm, which at least offered muscle as padding she supposed, but she couldn't see how that would be much of a help against the hard wood.

"Seriously. You need to get up and be in line when the mattress stores open. I don't even care if you get a frame, just something other than this floor. Or move my twin mattress from Paris', if she hasn't put attack dogs at the door. Maybe a nice camping mat would suffice, even, but get something while I'm in class."

He blew out a breath, not indicating having heard a word she'd said.

"Logan!"

"I heard you, Ace. I got very little sleep last night, so I'd appreciate a few minutes of extra rest before you send me out shopping."

"Says the man who doesn't have to sit through two hours of the most boring philosophy lecture ever unleashed on undergraduates. I swear that man's voice should be used as a white noise generator. It makes me tired even when I'm rested. I might as well skip and nap in the library. Oh, man, just thinking of those comfy chairs in the back makes me ready for a nice catnap."

"My wallet's in my pants, over there somewhere. Get enough cash to keep you running on caffeine all day. Just leave my credit cards, so I can get a bed. I'll do rush delivery. I have no need to face Paris, and no offense, but your mattress is too soft anyway, not to mention it's too small."

She looked at him. "You don't like my mattress?"

He gave her a sleepy smile. "Is that a problem?"

She felt indignant, though it wasn't to be classified as a true problem. "You've never complained about it before."

He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer to him. "Because I would rather sleep with you than worry about my mattress needs. I think I proved that last night," he said, knocking on the floor with his knuckles.

"I do like the apartment though. Did I tell you that last night?"

He kissed her arm. "You were appreciative of a great many things last night."

"I don't want to go to class. I want to go with you, if only to reacquaint my back with back support."

He shook his head. "No way. You finish school, no matter what, remember? That includes going to all your classes, no matter how boring the professor is."

She sighed. "Yeah, I know. So what else is on your to-do list today?"

He stretched stiffly. "Let's see. Job hunting, calling my landlord to end my lease in New York, and calling movers to pack up my apartment."

She froze momentarily. "When you say it all like that, it makes it sound real."

His hand ran over her arm. "It is real."

She nodded and kissed him as he leaned in toward her, but her thoughts were racing away from her. Panic swept through her, but she remained as calm as she could outwardly. "I should go shower. I'm hoping some hot water will loosen up my back."

"Go. I'll jump in after you leave," he said, rolling onto his arm again.

She looked at him, laying on the hard floor for a second before pushing herself upright to make for the bathroom. She hoped that after a good hot shower she'd feel calm again. She wasn't sure what had triggered the freak out, but she was operating on the idea that it was normal and it would pass. She just hoped it went as fast as it had come.

-X-

"Hi."

Lorelai blinked at first, as if trying to adjust to the image before her. "Um, hi. Why are you here?"

"I had time between classes," Rory said off-handedly.

"Enough time to drive here and back?"

"The next class is just a discussion with a TA."

"You love those," Lorelai pointed out.

"Yeah, well, this TA is kind of an idiot. He has no understanding of symbolism, and I always get a headache after arguing with him for fifty minutes."

"So this is about your annoying TA and nothing to do with the fact that you're a newlywed?"

Rory chewed at her bottom lip. "It's a little weird. Being married."

"Yes, it's definitely weird," Lorelai agreed. "Being married, not your being married. Well, okay, let's go with both being a little weird for me. Being married was weird and you being married, both weird."

Rory frowned. "But not at first, right? You were happy at first, with Dad."

Lorelai cringed. "Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Compare the two situations. They are nothing alike," Lorelai assured her. "Trust me."

"We both eloped," Rory stated.

"Yes, but, we eloped because I was nervous, and it was your dad, and he's always had this way of talking to me that makes me want to believe him, even when I know he's just," she cut off, not wanting to expound the point. "He's your dad. I love him, because I've always loved him and he contributed to your existence, and we had to try. It was going to happen at some point."

"Because you always wondered what it would be like?" Rory asked.

Lorelai nodded. "Of course I did. How could I not, given our history? And even though I always said it would have been a mistake, part of me hoped I was wrong. But you and Logan, that's different. You don't have this long, complicated history and a kid, and all that baggage. You're just young and impetuous and in love. That's romantic."

"We are young, though," Rory agreed.

"Well, you're not sixteen," Lorelai said. "You're both legal adults."

"Yes, but I'm not done with school. He's soon-to-be unemployed. We don't even have a bed yet."

Lorelai frowned and grabbed Rory's arm, dragging her out of the kitchen of the Dragonfly Inn and out the back door to the grounds. "You're freaking out."

"Of course I'm freaking out! I'm married, Mom!"

"You were fine yesterday! What happened? Did you talk to his parents? Were they mean?"

Rory shook her head. "No, he found an apartment and we had dinner there, and we slept on the floor."

"That's worse than camping," Lorelai commented with distaste.

"Yeah. But in the morning, we were sort of planning our day, and he said he would get a bed in there, and look for jobs, and have his apartment in New York packed up."

"Sounds reasonable, given the circumstances. Why don't you just use one of the two beds you have now?"

"Apparently my bed is too soft and small and he has this thing about not bringing big pieces of furniture with him when he moves."

"Luke would appreciate that," Lorelai mused.

"He's packing up his whole life and moving it into our tiny little apartment."

"He got you a tiny apartment? Mr. Lap of Luxury himself?"

"He got what I asked for," she said resolutely.

Lorelai smiled. "Good for him."

"Mom, big picture. He's moving his whole life for me."

"He's your husband. I think that qualifies as normal behavior for husbands. Well, good ones, anyway."

Rory covered her eyes with her hands. "I keep thinking I'm going to wake up and I'll be back in my room at Paris', waiting for him to come back into town so we can fight about him blowing off Lane's shower. I really thought we might break up for good, you know?"

Lorelai didn't look like she knew at all. "But instead you got married?"

"He was being so evasive, and I was so tired of trying to support him while biting my tongue. He was driving me crazy, so crazy that I couldn't stop obsessing over it. I wasn't in my right mind when I went to Vegas."

"I know you were upset then, but you two worked it out, obviously, or why else would you have said yes when he proposed?"

Rory leaned back against the fence. "I don't know."

"What does that mean, you don't know? You can't remember?" she asked, clearly not serious about the suggestion.

Rory met her mother's eyes. "I don't. I can't, not yet. The more I try to focus on it, the less get."

Lorelai looked stricken. "Why don't you remember?"

"I might have had a few drinks, to calm myself while I was waiting for Logan to show up at his hotel."

"Tell me you're kidding."

Rory shook her head silently, though her sheepish expression said enough.

"You don't remember him proposing, at all?"

"All I remember is him getting me a bouquet, before we had the ceremony."

"That's it?"

Rory nodded. "That's it. It's more than I remembered the next morning."

"Rory," Lorelai said, incapable of scolding her or laughing at her, though both seemed appropriate.

"I know, okay? I know how crazy it is and that it might not work, but I promised him that we'd give this a shot."

"You promised him? So, he's the one that wanted to stay married after your got drunk and wound up legally bound to one another?"

"He was sober that night, and he's been so supportive this whole time. I couldn't say no, because obviously some part of me wanted to marry him, or I wouldn't have, even when I was that drunk. And I love him, so we agreed to try this for a month, for real."

"So you're only married for a month?" Lorelai asked, utterly confused at the complication Rory had thrown her way.

"No, we're married for good, but we're not considering an out for at least a month."

"An out being an annulment?" Lorelai supplied.

"Yes. I can't tell you how shocked I was, when I woke up and realized what we'd done, and he wasn't immediately on the phone with his lawyers, trying to sort this out."

"It does seem to be his M.O.," she agreed.

"He's taking this really seriously, at least he seems like he is. He's done this one-eighty, in terms of focus on his whole life. And most of it is aimed at me."

Suddenly it all made sense to Lorelai. "Which has sent you into panic mode."

"He can't build his life around me! I'm this mass of undecided options. School's not done, and I have all these avenues I'm exploring, and I don't know what I want my life to look like in three months."

"Including being married to him?"

"I'm an awful person. I want to be as sure as he is, I do. I owe him that much at least."

"Are you sure he's not just putting up a good front for you?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, isn't it possible that he's freaking out on some level? Or will soon?"

"He did say he's good in times of crisis, and that he tends to react after the fact," she said, slowly nodding with her mother's logic.

"There you go. He's probably just as wigged out as you are, on some level. You're not alone in this. And hey, a month is nothing in the grand scheme of life. You've been living with Paris for how long now? Surely you can manage another month with Logan. You liked living with him before he left for London."

Rory nodded, her thoughts filled with her mother's reasoning. "I don't mind living with him. I've missed it, honestly."

"See? This isn't exactly the same as just living together, but it's not all that different. And you have to give him credit for being so supportive of all this. He's not exactly the marrying kind."

"He's really not. The fact that he'd already bought a ring before he knew I was in town says a lot; I know he wants this to work. I know he loves me."

"Did you at least let him know that you're freaking out before you came all the way out here?"

"Why would I do that?"

"Because you're married. That's how it works. You have to be honest with him about how you're feeling, good and bad. I guess that's where it comes in handy to remember your vows, but my point is that if you don't tell him what's going on with you then there's no way for him to help you through it. Remember how upset you were with him at the shower, because things were going south for him at work and you found out after the fact? You were mad because you thought you could have at least helped him in some way, but he didn't talk about any of it. It's a two-way street," Lorelai advised.

"You learned a lot about marriage in a short time," Rory noted.

"Yeah, well, it was a real learning experience. Not a successful one, but if we can't learn from our mistakes, then we're screwed, right?"

"I'm going to be a terrible wife."

Lorelai tsked and shook her head. "Hey, you can do anything you put your mind to. If you want to be a good wife, then you will be. All it takes is time and energy, and probably a drawer full of lingerie."

"Any other pearls of wisdom for me before I head back to New Haven?"

"I wouldn't mention the drunken nuptials to his folks. Or mine," she added.

"That I actually figured out on my own, as inept at all the rest of this marriage thing as I am."

"I'm here, if you need anything else," Lorelai said, giving her a parting hug.

"Thanks. I'll see you Friday?"

"I'll be there," she promised. "For better or worse."

-X-

"I'm home," she called out in the apartment as she opened the door, which seemed overkill given the size of the space. Nothing had changed in the time she'd been gone, save for he was now seated at the table, fully dressed instead of lying semi-nude on the floor. His cell phone was on the table and the paper was open in front of him.

He smiled up at her. "How was your day?"

"Honestly?" she asked, putting her bag on the floor and sitting in the empty chair. "School was fine, but I was a little freaked out this morning, and I was having trouble shaking the feeling, so I made a little detour between classes."

He sat up straighter. "What kind of detour?"

"I went to see Mom."

"Again?"

"Yeah. I didn't tell her the nature of everything that happened between us before, and I'm sorry I didn't keep it between us, but I didn't know how to tell you that I was freaking out. You're being so wonderful about everything, but I just needed her to know what was really going on."

"You don't have to be sorry for talking to your mom, or for freaking out."

"Really?" she asked with relief.

"I get that this is a huge change. I know we lived together before, but that just felt like you adding some of your stuff to mine. This is a whole different prospect, us getting all our stuff together, and starting over."

"Exactly! I mean, I always kind of felt like I was staying with you, not that you ever made me feel like I was a guest, but it felt like a temporary solution. This is a decision we're making, to combine our lives. I know I should have talked to you about it, but Mom was really helpful. She was actually pretty insightful about the way marriage works."

He hesitated. "In the nature of full disclosure, you're not the only one that went to see your mom about our marriage without telling the other."

"You went to see her?"

He nodded. "Yesterday, after you left Stars Hollow. I know you didn't want me to come with you, and I get why. But I wanted to make sure she knew that this wasn't all on you."

"That's sweet, in sort of a misguided way. You didn't need to do that."

"I did. I'm kind of taking you from her, in essence."

She didn't argue. "I promise from now on I'll come to you first with my concerns."

"I appreciate that," he said with a smile. "Are you still freaking out?"

"I might feel better after a good night's sleep. Did you order a mattress?"

"It'll be here by six, which gives them just over an hour to get here."

"My hero," she said, getting up to check the fridge. "Hey, you shopped."

"I like to keep food in the house, remember?"

"Yes, I do seem to remember about you," she said, pulling out a bottle of water. "Any job leads?"

"Nothing concrete. I set up a meeting with this guy for next week. He wanted to do it sooner, but I told him I had a lot going on and I wanted to officially resign before I could get into negotiations with anyone else."

"Where does this guy work?" she inquired as she sat back down.

"At a tech start-up in California."

She paused mid-sip. "California?"

"It's just a meeting. He's going to be on the east coast next week, so he's fitting me in. I'm not going anywhere, not yet. But if it goes well, you can get a little sun while I check out the scene because that would take a couple of days."

"You'd consider living in California?" she posed.

"You wouldn't?" he asked in return.

"I've never thought about it. It's really far away from here," she said.

"You've grown up wanting to be an international correspondent. By definition that's having a desire to live really far away from here."

"California's not international," she defended, "and besides, you can be based out of New York and cover stories all over the world. It's just travel. I love to travel."

"Which is why I thought you would consider living somewhere new for a little while. We don't have to be tied permanently to any place if we don't want to be. If my job takes us to California for a while, yours might take us to Japan next, and after that, who knows?"

"You wouldn't mind hopping around like that, not having a true home base?"

"Not as long as we're together. I'm always up for a new adventure," he said amicably.

She was still feeling side-swiped. "I've never been to California."

"It's just a meeting. It might not even warrant a visit out there."

She tried to consider the positive in the situation. "But if it does, I'll go with you. It might be the perfect timing to get away, after everyone finds out."

He grinned. "How did your mom take it, the fact that you were drunk in Vegas?"

"She was cool about it. I thought she'd at least mock me mercilessly, but she talked me down from the ledge. I know I shouldn't invite trouble, but I didn't expect everyone to be so on board with this. Even you," she said.

"You thought I'd be quick to get rid of you?" he asked dubiously.

"I wasn't sure what was going on with us recently. I knew I didn't like it, but I wasn't sure how to bring us back to where we used to be."

He gazed at her with pensive reserve. "And now?"

"Now? Logan, you're the model husband. In fact, if you don't start throwing your socks on the floor or leaving the toilet seat up, I'm going to assume you're a pod person."

That drew a chuckle from him. "I promise, as soon as my clothes get here, I will start leaving them on the floor. But we don't have much floor space, so remember you asked me to miss the hamper."

"I'm just asking for a little imperfection. You're making me look bad."

"You could never look bad," he said, standing up to sidle up next to her. "Trust me on that."

"You're sure you don't want to reserve your judgment for, I don't know, about a month or so?" she asked, bringing up their only buffer.

"I've known you for a long time, Ace. My mind's made up."

"The month was your idea," she said, as her notion of his ideology and his actions clashed.

"I didn't suggest the month for my benefit," he said slowly, as if not to startle her further.

"Then why? So you could tell your father that you were taking it seriously?" she guessed.

"No, it has nothing to do with my father at all," he argued firmly.

"Then what made you put that out there?"

"For you," he said emphatically. "I made the offer for you. I could see how freaked out you were, Rory. It was plain that your first instinct was to undo it, but I couldn't let you do that. Not after the night we had, not without you remembering what had happened between us first."

"Then help me, Logan. Jog my memory, if you're so upset with my not being able to remember every last detail," she said, feeling put on the spot.

"I don't want it to come from me. I know you trust me; I know that whatever I tell you, you'll believe, and I appreciate that more than you know. But I told you before, I don't want it to come from me. I don't want to tell you how you feel about me. Honestly, I'm hoping it doesn't take a month. I hope you wake up tomorrow and remember me asking you to marry me, that you remember what went through your mind before you answered me, and you remember that in spite of all the reasons it might have been a bad idea to act hastily we decided to act in favor of our happiness. I want you to remember the way you looked at me after we kissed at the officiant's urging. Of course I want all that, and of course I'm upset that you can't."

She groaned and stood, turning in a circle in their small dining area. "You think I don't want the same things? It's killing me, to see you so certain about this based on events that I was a part of and can't recall. I know we were in the same place before Vegas, weren't we?"

His voice was rough. "I really don't think we were."


	7. Live to Fight Another Day

Trial of Error

Chapter Seven: Live to Fight Another Day

Description: Set just after Will You Be My Lorelai Gilmore? Logan heads off to Vegas with Colin and Finn, but Rory doesn't let it just pass without having her say. Unfortunately for Rory, what happens in Vegas isn't going to stay in Vegas.

Ship: Rogan

Rating: T

They were both exhausted. It was too late to consider going to bed, what with the fact the sun would be up to start another day soon anyhow. She couldn't take a day off to sleep because her newly upgraded relationship status warranted putting in a whole night spent toiling at reconciliation. The apartment was feeling smaller by the minute—the only time they'd not been in view of the other was the few bathroom breaks they'd taken. She'd made her last one as long as possible, washing her hands twice and checking her pores before returning to their stalemate.

He'd been so upset, rattled to the point of losing faith, and she couldn't fault him. She'd felt blindsided by his realization; she had been positive that he'd felt the same as her when all along he'd been considering their future together for far longer than she would have ever imagined. He hadn't doubted how suited they were for each other. He'd gotten bogged down in work and distracted, but his feelings for her never wavered.

She pushed her hand through her hair and looked over to him. He was seated on the bed—which was delivered during their fight, making for a very awkward silence and stilted chat with the two delivery guys. She had wordlessly made it up with sheets while he had taken to the bathroom shortly thereafter. He was staring without focus at the opposite end of the apartment. He hadn't said anything in a while, and she wasn't sure what to say.

"I thought," he said, breaking the stillness of the room, "you really wanted this too."

Tears pricked at her eyes. "I never said I didn't want this," she said, rushing the words out as quickly as possible.

He turned his gaze on her. "If I'd never proposed, would you have been content to just date forever?"

Her mouth opened to answer, but no words came out. Panic welled up in her chest, different than what she'd experienced the morning before. She stood to lose something now, whereas her earlier freak-out was her body's attempt to adjust too quickly. She hated knowing the truth would hurt him so much.

"Maybe we should just go to sleep," he suggested wearily, leaning forward to push back the covers on the bed.

"No!" she spat out. "We agreed to resolve this stuff, no matter how long it takes."

"I don't want you to do this to avoid hurting my feelings," he informed her. "If you don't really want to be married to me, then there's no use in staying up and losing all this sleep—losing all this time."

"You can't give up on me because you don't like my answer," she said. "What I thought about marriage before this has no bearing on my willingness to be married to you now."

He had his answer, even without her spelling it out. "So you didn't want to?"

"I didn't think it would be an issue. I didn't realize it was an important milestone to reach for you. When we met, you didn't even want to be someone's boyfriend, remember?"

"I wanted to be your boyfriend," he corrected. "Is it so hard to believe I'd want to be your husband?"

"Can you hear yourself? Do you think if you asked anyone in your life, even those who know you really well, would say your wedding day was something they ever anticipated?"

His eyes blazed at her. "I don't care what anyone else thinks. I care what you think."

"I think that I love you and you love me, and all I need is time for it to feel normal. I know that it will, in time. It will feel like second nature, for you to be my husband, just like at first it was weird to think of you as my boyfriend. Of course, back then you used to get all sweaty when you said that out loud. I was patient with you then; can't you be patient with me now?"

He seemed to deflate, as some overpowering emotion left him. "You're right."

"I am?" she asked, surprised at his sudden agreement, after all that time.

"This is new and sudden. We've only told your mom and Colin and Finn, and all of them reacted with shock. That's not all on you. Getting our own apartment isn't a sign that we've overcome the hardest part of this."

"It might be easier if we actually sleep at night," she said, glancing at the advancing clock and realizing all they'd really lost was a whole night of rest. She hoped they at least gained something more important out of the exercise.

"We can check our first fight off the list, at least," he said sheepishly.

She joined him on the bed, with a tentative smile. "It's a milestone, really, when you think about it."

One side of his mouth hitched up. "Should we celebrate?"

"Two hours isn't enough time to sleep, but it is enough time for something else," she said, already starting to rid herself of her shirt.

"I love make-up sex," he said, mimicking her actions.

"Shut up and take your pants off," she urged.

-X-

By Friday, Rory felt like they had developed a fairly good rhythm, temporary as it might be. Having Logan around, especially with a flexible schedule, offered her the luxury of having full meals and companionship even when her days were full of classes, studying, and long hours at the paper. Despite having gotten little sleep the night before—a by-product of him helping her study and her rewarding him for the help—and getting up early, she knew that even in her rush to get home in time to leave for her weekly Friday night dinner he'd make the effort seamless.

She opened the door to the apartment and found him dressed for dinner and the dress she'd texted him about laid out on their bed. She let her bag drop to the floor and started the process of changing. "You have no idea how much I wish I could change into comfy pants and order Indian food and watch a movie on the couch with you," she said in a massive exhale.

He leaned against the table and watched her. "We don't have a couch."

"Fine, then in bed. That's better, because it signifies being lazier."

"Some might think it signifies our need to shop for a couch," he volleyed.

"Do we need a couch? Where will we put it? And besides, we'll probably only be here another three months. Why buy a bunch of stuff that we'll have to move to God-knows-where?"

"I'm working on that," he noted.

She paused as she grabbed her dress. "You have news?"

"We'll talk about it after the dinner. So, you're nervous and wanting to skip it?"

"Nervous? Of telling Emily and Richard that I married you? Hah," she said, giggling in a fit. "Believe me, you will never see them so happy as you will tonight."

He wasn't so convinced. "Are you sure?"

"I'm not dreading tonight, I'm just so tired. Getting in a dress and celebrating takes energy I'm not sure I have much of."

"Have you ever considered that your schedule is too full?" he teased.

"I'll rest when I'm old," she assured him.

"You'll rest when we retire," he corrected.

"And I plan on retiring when I'm really old," she said matter-of-factly.

"That's not a necessity."

"I know. I love what I do. I can't imagine not wanting to do it. You know those stories of people who keel over at their workplace?"

He frowned. "Yes," he said, obviously worried about where she was going with this.

"Those people probably have dedication for their craft. And why wouldn't I want to go out doing something I love?" she asked.

"That's the exact reason that I plan on retiring early and enjoying my life. If you want to die with a smile on your face, I'm more than happy to help you with that."

She laughed and turned her back to him. "Can you zip me?"

He let out a guttural sound and immediately came to her aid. "Can we be a little late? They understand how busy you are," he said as he kissed her shoulder.

"Emily Gilmore might be happy about us getting married, but she does not stand for tardiness."

He eased the zipper up her back, and she turned in his arms. He kissed her in effort to change her mind and at first her reaction led him to believe that her zipper might come back down with help of his fingers. But after a hearty response, she put a hand on his chest and pushed herself from him. "It's just a couple of hours making my grandparents insanely happy. We'll be back here and in bed before you know it."

He let out a sigh. "Fine. I guess I should be happy for one of these evenings that involves people being happier than we are about all this."

She beamed at him. "That's the spirit."

He paused for a beat. "Can we be late when we tell my parents?"

She nodded dutifully. "If that makes you feel better."

"If only there was a way for you to become a Huntzberger without having to deal with all those who already hold that name," he mused.

"I'm sure if there was a way, you of all people would have figured it out."

"Maybe Mitchum will disown me when I quit. That would get us out of telling them."

"Good luck with that," she said, grabbing her purse after she slid shoes onto her feet. She was already at the door, after one of her fastest outfit changes in history. He followed behind her at a slower pace.

"We're going to have to use a driver to go to my parents' house, because the only way we'll make it through that night is by drinking early and often."

"It's nice to know we share some of the same instincts," she said, doing her best to find the positive in what would prove to be one of her least favorite nights of all time.

-X-

Emily Gilmore herself met the pair at the front door. Rory stood, startled, as her grandmother opened her arms to her.

"Rory, you're here. We're so glad you were both able to make it this evening."

Rory returned the hug, though hesitantly. "Are we late?"

"No, right on time, as always."

Rory glanced at Logan, worried. "Where's the maid?"

Emily never faltered. "I gave her the night off."

"Really?" Rory asked, trepidation written all over her face.

"Don't look worried, it's not as if I gave the cook the night off. We got a new cook, did I tell you?"

Rory stepped in, and Logan closed the door behind them. "No, I don't think so."

"That's right. You haven't had much time to talk lately. Even when you called to add Logan to tonight's dinner, you were in such a rush."

Something was up, but whatever it was, Emily wasn't going to give it up quickly. "I'm sorry, Grandma. It's the last semester before graduation. Things are pretty busy."

"Yes, well," Emily said, still smiling pleasantly. "We can all catch up over drinks."

"Sounds great," Rory said as Emily made a beeline to start prepping their pre-dinner drinks. Rory paused and grabbed Logan's elbow. "Something's up."

He gave her a placating smile. "You're probably just paranoid. She doesn't know what you think she knows."

"No, something's weird. Emily doesn't give her maid the night off ever, especially when we have guests."

"You're referring to me, aren't you?" he asked, amused.

She ignored his question. "She might not know what we did, but she has something she's happy about. She's far too happy."

"You're cute when you're contemplating conspiracy theories."

"Just be on guard, okay? Just because they love you doesn't mean that something else couldn't derail the evening."

"I'll keep my eyes peeled for any trapdoors," he said, teasing her despite the way she'd suddenly tensed up.

"I need a drink," she said, finishing the trek into the parlor. There she found her mother and her grandfather, sipping drinks and not talking. Lorelai immediately perked up and scooted over for the two to join her.

"You're here! Thank God."

"You all knew we were coming," Rory said. "It's not such a surprise that we actually showed up, is it?"

"You're late," Lorelai complained.

"Grandma said we were right on time," Rory protested.

"Yes, but right on time for you is late. You're always early. I had to try to make small talk with them, and Mom yelled at me and denied me a third martini," she said with a pouty frown.

"It's not appropriate to drink so much on an empty stomach, Lorelai," Emily reasoned.

"So serve appetizers, Mom," Lorelai shot back.

"You need appetizers?" Emily sighed heavily, handing Rory and Logan each a martini. "We're having dinner in a few minutes."

"They're not just for me. We have extra people, which means extra conversation and people showing up at different times, and who doesn't like a nice bacon-wrapped scallop?"

"I fail to see why I should serve seafood wrapped in crispy pig-flesh because you can't stop at two martinis," Emily argued.

"Don't you have something you'd like to share with Grandma and Grandpa? Surely there's something new in your life that can fill the void of my not drinking," Lorelai directed her comments loudly to her daughter.

Logan bit back a chuckle, attempting to cover it by bringing his drink up to his mouth and Rory narrowed her eyes at her mother. "Smooth."

"Yes, Rory, what's new with you? Any word on the job front?" Richard asked, having largely ignored the previous chatter.

"Nothing yet. I've applied for the internship with the _Times_, and a couple of papers around the east coast. But it's still early," she added, to make herself feel better about her prospects.

"You have plenty of time," Logan said, with a hand resting in a supportive fashion on her lower back.

"Yes, it's very early. Quite possibly they're still looking through your portfolio, it is quite extensive," Lorelai chimed in.

"I'm just glad the two of you could both be here. Your father has had you travelling quite a bit, hasn't he?" Emily asked Logan.

Logan cleared his throat, his eyes skimming Rory's before answering with as much truth as he felt proper to offer given the circumstances. "I have a lot of frequent flier miles saved up, that's true," he offered in his typical charming manner.

"It's so lovely that you're both able to travel so much at your ages. It's a shame that you aren't able to take more trips together."

"We have a few things we're discussing, for after her graduation," Logan shared.

"Anywhere exciting?" Emily asked.

Rory straightened up. He, of course, was alluding to their honeymoon, which they'd only discussed in an overview of possibilities in the last few days, not yet landing on a specific locale. She'd wanted to go somewhere neither of them had been, but that proved difficult thanks to his overtaxed passport. Many of the places that he'd never been to were quite remote and not typical honeymoon destinations. "We discussed Asia, since we had to cancel the other trip when he went to London."

"Hopefully your father will keep you stateside for a while, so you won't have to cancel again," Richard said.

"I don't think that will be a problem this time," Logan said.

"Has he mentioned a more permanent assignment?" Emily inquired eagerly.

Rory's warning sensor went off. "Why do you ask?"

Emily smiled that secretively pleased smile of hers that put everyone on the settee on high alert and offered her long-held news. "I ran into Shira at the DAR luncheon for pediatric lymphoma last week, and of course we made pleasant conversation about you kids. It seems she and Mitchum see as little of Logan as I do of you, Rory," Emily chided.

"Less, even, if at all possible," Logan offered meekly.

"Anyway, she was appropriately vague about what she knew, claiming that husbands never tell their wives the whole story, but that Mitchum was very focused on getting Logan settled in a more permanent position in the company. I wasn't sure how much he'd discussed with you as of yet."

"He very rarely includes me in the planning stages of his decisions with what I should do with my life," Logan said, and Rory was proud how little bitterness he allowed to seep through as he spoke. He grabbed her hand with his as he continued. "Which is too bad, given the fact that I now have commitments to honor ahead of his wishes."

Emily's eyes widened, her glee ready to multiply ten-fold. "What kind of commitments? Are you two…?"

Rory smiled at Logan and looked to her mother, who grinned supportively, before she locked eyes with Emily, who was set to turbo boost out of her seat at her announcement. "We got married."

Emily's expression soured instantly from her nearly ecstatic state. "You did what?"

Rory faltered as Emily stared widely with horror and Richard stood up from his seat, newspaper forgotten next to him. "We, um, got married. Last weekend. In Las Vegas."

"Is this a joke? I know you two girls think shocking me is funny, but this is not funny at all," Emily warned.

"Mom, chill out. It's not a joke," Lorelai said calmly, hoping it would rub off on the room.

"Well, if it's not a joke, what is it?" Emily demanded.

"I don't understand," Richard began. "I know the two of you have been serious for some time now, but it seems a few important steps have been skipped in this instance."

"A few?" Emily shrieked.

"Mom, Dad, what is wrong with you two? You both adore Logan. I'm pretty sure you have a shrine to him and Rory in your closet, with a Buddha, a two-dollar bill, and one of those freaky troll dolls surrounding a unity candle with their picture on it," she joked.

"It is not the match that we mind, Lorelai," Emily began, "but the manner in which it was executed that is inexcusable. Unless… there was a reason for your haste?" she asked, hope resurfacing in her eyes.

"Oh, no, no reason. We were hasty for the pure romance value, there was absolutely no societal norm we were trying to conform to, in any way, shape, or form," Rory jumped in to put out that fire.

"Are you absolutely certain?" Emily asked, disappointed.

"You're rooting for her to get married out of obligation?" Lorelai asked. "Really?"

"Well then explain to me why on earth you would go to the tackiest place on earth to get married without notifying anyone beforehand?" Emily demanded.

"Because sometimes you're driven to act impulsively and take a leap without worrying how things will work out, because in that moment of taking a big risk, you're filled with this overwhelming hope and certainty that it will all work out for the best," Rory blurted out loudly, surprising everyone in the room—herself included.

"We realize that this is a shock to our loved ones," Logan said evenly. "We went away for a fun weekend, I ended up proposing, and we didn't want to wait."

"I'd say you were raised better than this, but I suppose that isn't the case," Emily muttered, lashing out at both Rory and Lorelai at once.

"Hey, it's not my fault she got married. If anything, I feel I did my best to turn her off to the whole institution," Lorelai said, holding up her hands protectively.

"Getting married should not be something to do on a whim. There should be preparations and a celebration and a proper ceremony," Emily said longingly.

"We don't need a lot of pomp and circumstance," Rory said.

"Why now?" Richard asked, breaking into his wife's protests.

"What do you mean?" Rory inquired.

"I mean, I understand the desire to do this quickly and quietly, but you're three months away from graduation. You're very busy and still undecided as to the direction of your career—surely you might have waited three additional months to add this commitment to your plate."

"Our being married will in no way hinder her career," Logan said emphatically.

Emily harrumphed. "Until your father sends you back to Europe out of spite."

"I could work in Europe. I might need a visa or something, but they have papers," Rory said in defense, not giving away his secrets.

He shook his head, signaling it was okay. "I won't be working for my father for much longer."

Her grandparents were adequately surprised at the added reveal. "How is that possible?" Emily asked.

He wet his lips and said aloud the words he'd only spoken to Rory. "I'm going to resign. It's been a long time coming."

"What will you do? Mitchum won't just let you leave," Emily continued, gobsmacked.

"He will," Logan assured her. "He won't like it, but he won't have a choice."

"What do you intend to do, son?" Richard asked.

"I enjoyed the acquisitions aspect of business development, and I've got a few contacts that have lined up some leads. I'll get heavier into negotiations after I speak with my father."

"Which will be when?" Richard asked.

"Monday," Logan said.

"The day there's a hole ripped in the roof of their estate," Emily said.

"That's a tad dramatic," Lorelai said with a shake of her head. "Isn't it?"

Rory blanched. "Actually it's not that far off. He won't like it, even if he accepts it. And two hours later, we're going to make our announcement at dinner."

"Are you two insane?" Emily asked. "I guess you are, getting married in Las Vegas. You weren't married in one of those awful drive-thru windows, were you?"

"Oh, I forgot about those!" Lorelai exclaimed.

"It was in a chapel. I walked down a real aisle," Rory explained.

"Wearing jeans or cut-offs?" Emily asked, looking near death for even conjuring the mental image.

Rory frowned, circumventing her lack of memory to a time she did remember. "I was still in my dress, from Lane's party."

"She looked beautiful," Logan interjected.

Emily sighed. "Did you even get a photo?"

"In fact, yes," Logan said, pulling out his phone. "I had the officiant snap a picture of us. He says lots of people like to add them to social media and spread the news that way."

Rory grabbed at his phone, eager to see the photo herself. There they were, on his phone looking very much in love, with an obvious glow of two people that had acted more quickly than they could think. She was holding her bouquet at her waist as she turned in toward him, and he had both arms wrapped around her as if he might never let go. She looked up at him with misty eyes as her grandmother took his phone for her own inspection.

"For heaven's sake, is that crushed velour?" Emily exclaimed, referring to any number of items in the background.

Richard looked up from the photo. "I suppose congratulations are in order."

Rory smiled, but Emily put a halt to any celebration. "Not so fast. You can congratulate them at the reception."

Rory looked to her mother, who hung her head in defeat. "What reception?"

"Your wedding reception. You may have had the ceremony, but you can't tell me you had a proper reception with your family and friends. As the bride's family, it's our responsibility to host a reception."

"Uh, I'm the mother of this bride, so technically I don't think it's your responsibility to do anything, other than get them a gift," Lorelai cut in.

"And just what are your plans for the reception?" Emily asked.

"My plan is to let the bride decide if she wants a reception, and I think I already know the answer to that."

"We don't need a reception," Rory repeated.

"I know you don't need one, but that has nothing to do with you having one. You can't be happy having a quickie ceremony and darting in and out of people's homes, giving them a giant shock and then going on about your life as if nothing is different at all."

"We're not going about life as if nothing is different," Rory said. "We got an apartment."

"An apartment? Being married is more than sharing a living space, as I've been telling your mother for years."

"It's true. She has," Lorelai repeated for good measure.

"You just can't send out a change of address card with your new name on it and be done with it all. That's not the way things are done."

"I have a new address, not a new name," Rory said, realizing too late that it was a correction she should have held back.

"You're not taking his name?" Emily asked, clearly having found the last straw.

"I haven't decided," Rory faltered, looking to Logan for support. He remained surprisingly quiet and inspected the ground at his feet. "We just got married."

"I think they understand that part now," Lorelai stage whispered.

"I can't listen to this any longer. The two of you need to get your priorities in line. Come and see us after you finish your surprise attacks. What you need is perspective."

Emily left the room at that, with Richard offering his goodbyes before taking after her to offer her comfort. Lorelai stood to pour herself another martini.

"Wow, you know, I never thought I would live to see the day where my mother wished you'd gotten knocked up so you had a good reason to get married. I don't want to alarm anyone, but it might be a sign of the coming apocalypse."

Rory sank back down on the couch. "Can I have another one of those?"

Logan looked down at her. "This was not the cakewalk you promised."

Rory closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the furniture. "Why didn't you show me the picture before?"

He shrugged. "I kind of forgot about it."

She opened her eyes and offered a half smile. "At least I'm not the only one, at last."

Lorelai handed her the drink. "It's a nice picture. Grandma can blow it up for your reception."

"She's not going to make us do that, is she?" Rory asked.

Lorelai laughed. "You're kidding, right? You think my mother might back off on this subject? She had big hopes to throw a very fancy wedding the second she found out she was having a daughter. Maybe, just maybe after my decades of attempting to kill her dream, she's given up on me, but you have always been the renewal of hope in her—and the moment you brought Logan into this house for the first time, she started a catalog of ideas for the culmination of this particular union."

"You can't prove that," Rory said, knowing full well her mother was spot on.

"You want to divide and conquer? The only way I lose is if it's in her room, under her mattress—you know, the one she's lying on right now, with a cool cloth on her forehead as Dad fetches her aspirin? I swear, the woman suffers from more aptly timed headaches and vapors than anyone in recorded history," Lorelai said with her eyes rolling up as far as they could manage.

"I don't think that's necessary," Rory declined.

"In that case, I guess I'll take off, seeing as it doesn't appear that dinner will be served tonight."

"I'll call you tomorrow," Rory promised.

"Okay. Logan, good luck with your father. I know it's not easy to make that kind of separation," she said.

"Thank you," he said graciously.

Lorelai took her leave, and suddenly the house felt very empty with the two of them sitting in the parlor alone. Rory finished her second martini and put the empty glass down on the coffee table. "So that went differently than I expected."

He let out a half-strangled laugh. "Little bit. It wasn't all bad."

"What part did you enjoy the most?" she asked, assuming he was kidding.

"What you said, about how we felt, why we did it how we did it. I enjoyed that."

"Oh," she said softly. "That."

"Is it something you remembered, or just how you've rationalized it?" he asked.

"Neither. The words just came out of me. But when you showed us that picture, it fit."

He nodded. "It definitely fit. Should we go home, or do you want to try to talk to Emily?"

"I'll set up a lunch with her, later. She won't want to talk about it tonight. Let's go home and order in."

He stood up and offered his arm. "I'm ready when you are."

She hooked her arm through his as they made their way back to the front door. "Can I see your phone again?"

He just smiled as he pulled it out of his pocket and handed it over so she could access his photos again.


	8. Love, Honor, and Other Survival Tactics

Trial of Error

Chapter One: Love, Honor, and Other Survival Tactics

Description: Set just after Will You Be My Lorelai Gilmore? Logan heads off to Vegas with Colin and Finn, but Rory doesn't let it just pass without having her say. Unfortunately for Rory, what happens in Vegas isn't going to stay in Vegas.

Ship: Rogan

Rating: T

Sunday was traditionally a day of rest for her. With very few exceptions, no matter how busy the rest of her week was, she spent Sunday morning whiling away under the covers, catching up on much-needed sleep. Having survived their first full week of marriage called for her upholding the tradition, so when Logan woke up hours before her eyelids would lift, he slipped out of bed and got dressed in warm-ups and one of his old Yale zip-up sweatshirts and exited the apartment silently. By the time he got back, she was stretching and sitting up at the aroma of coffee and other food he'd brought back with him.

"What time is it?" she asked with a wide yawn. She barely missed a beat before her next question escaped. "Is that coffee?"

He smiled. "From downstairs. I've noticed you're up to three visits a day," he said, handing her large cup to her. She quickly settled up against the pillows in a seated position so that when she took a sip she didn't just spill it all over herself.

"It's good coffee," she defended her growing reliance. "And my coffee maker isn't working at the moment."

"Your coffee maker is on strike from overuse," he teased her. "I also brought turnovers and breakfast sandwiches and some fruit. Thought we'd have brunch."

"Sounds great," she said, wondering if this was a special treat commemorating their first week of marriage, or if it might be a weekly tradition. "It was nice of you to get up early to go get all of this."

He brought over a tray with food on it and joined her on the bed, but remained on top of the covers. "I was up anyway. I went for a run."

She held her coffee down and stared curiously at this man she was supposed to know better than anyone else. "You run?"

He curled one side of his mouth up. "Sometimes. When I need to think, it helps me clear my head. I ran a lot when we first got involved."

"How did I not know this?" she asked, dumbfounded.

"It's just something I do, it's not a big deal."

"Except you said you needed to clear your head. What's up?"

He let out a breath. "I think we need to head out to California for a couple of days."

She blinked at him. "But… you said you wouldn't talk to anyone seriously until after you talked to your dad."

"I know, but they're really interested. And they know my situation, so they're not expecting me until later this week."

"I thought you were going to take time off to evaluate your options and help me study and," she cut off, having run out of things he should do with time off. As much as he always liked to have a good time, he was never one to sit around idle. It made perfect sense that he'd have something lined up sooner rather than later and that he had to move fast to help him sort out his thoughts.

"I'd still like you to come with me. I know you've got that article due and a paper the next week. It'll just be two days, and I'll make sure we get to go out and have a little fun," he promised.

She looked down at the spread that he'd brought to start her late morning off right. She felt a pang of duty, as she'd agreed to accompany him on any such trips, due to the strain of being separated in this delicate time and the fact that she'd miss him if she stayed behind. She'd grown quite used to having him around the last week. "Of course I'll come. So, they're really interested. Are you?"

"It's too early to know for sure. We'll go out and hear what they have to say, and decide if it's right for us."

"Logan, you're being really considerate—this whole week you've been nothing but understanding and Friday night, after my grandparents' house, you were downright amazing. You've said all the right things and have been incredibly supportive."

He sensed that there was something she wasn't saying. "And you'd like me to be less considerate and supportive?"

She rolled her eyes at his take-away. "No, I just want to know what _you_ want."

"I want what's best for us," he repeated, making her glare at him in frustration. "I'm serious. I promised to act in our best interest—to be strong when you're weak, take care of you when you're sick, and have faith in us no matter what."

"Those sound like vows," she said off-handedly.

He met her eyes. "They were."

"Logan," she said breathlessly. "I don't, I mean, I still can't remember," she led.

He put a hand out on her knee and squeezed gently. "It's okay."

"No, it's not. I want to know that there's a wedding photo on your phone without you telling me and to remember what we promised each other, and all the ways I'm not living up to those promises. You're being true to all of that, even though I can't even remember you making those promises."

"You haven't given up on this, even though you easily could have," he said. "You haven't put your whole life on hold, but I never wanted you to. You've been more than accommodating, and so far, you haven't broken your word."

"But it would be so much simpler if I knew what those words were," she groaned. "I know you don't want to tell me and it might still come back, but Logan, you're my husband. And more than that, you've been this really amazing husband, the likes of which I don't even deserve."

"That's not true," he countered.

"It's okay to want to take a job in California, even if you think I won't want to move there."

"But I'm not going to take it if you won't move there," he said plainly. His voice was firm and his mind clearly set.

"I would never let you say no because of me, and for no other reason."

"And somewhere in the middle, we'll find our compromise."

"You seem so sure about all this. Does nothing about any of this give you pause?"

He glanced down. "I'm not exactly looking forward to talking to my parents."

"About work or us?"

He blew out a breath. "Both. I know there's a whole history of in-fighting in my family, so I should be used to their disappointment and disapproval, but this is different. This is about the choices I'm making for my life, finally and unequivocally going against everything they've ever wanted for me."

"Are you having second thoughts?"

He shook his head. "No. I need to cut the ties with the business side of things. And if they have a problem with us, then they won't get to be a part of our lives. That's their loss."

"It's a lot of change at once. I just don't want you to regret any of this."

He shook his head. "I've been thinking about having this conversation with my father since I was eight, which was around the same time I realized he'd planned my whole career for me. It has nothing to do with the fact we got married. It's the right thing to do. And as for us," he began in a pensive manner.

"It's too early to tell?" she asked with concern.

"No," he said quickly. "I know we're allowing this month for ambivalence, but I don't believe in regrets as far as having taken a chance. And maybe we did take a risk, by getting married as fast as we did, but I'd only regret it if I'd never asked you to marry me. Because I know that's what I wanted. This is what I want, to be with you, for you to come with me to California or Tuscaloosa or New York—wherever we need to be."

"Then what is it?" she asked softly.

"I don't want to lose you," he said roughly.

"You won't," she said, reaching out to touch his face. He held her hand on his cheek, but the look in his eyes betrayed his uncertainty.

"All those things your grandmother said, my parents are going to say but with character assassinations thrown in. They'll hate how we did it, but they'll assign blame."

"There's nothing they can say about me or you to make me change my mind," she said.

"Are you sure? You know what my dad is like. He can be a heartless son-of-a-bitch when he wants to be," he seethed.

"I'm well aware of what your father is capable of," she said stonily. "But I've been through it and come out the other side. There is nothing that man can do to me now. I'm immune to his tricks."

"I wish I were as sure as you," he said with a mix of jealousy and hesitation.

"I'll be sure for both of us. That's how it goes, right?"

He smiled. "Something like that, yeah."

She kissed him, soft and quick. "I've been doing some thinking of my own," she announced, seguing from talk of his parents.

"Yeah?" he asked, curious to her state-of-mind.

"Yeah. I'm not sure how this whole losing time thing is supposed to go, or what I might get back, but I hate seeing your face when it's obvious that I'm out of the loop on things we said or did that night. I know we can't go back and relive that night, but maybe, when the month is up, we could try."

"Try to get you to remember?" he guessed.

"No, I mean, renew our vows," she said, feeling stupid for the suggestion since their original vows were barely a week old.

He smiled. "Are you proposing to me?"

"I hadn't thought of it that way, but yeah, sort of."

"It bothers you that everyone's so upset about missing it?" he surmised.

"No! We don't have to include anyone else, unless you want to. Unless we want to," she clarified. "This is just for us."

"To celebrate making it through the month?"

"Yes," she agreed. "You think it's stupid?"

He shook his head. "No, I don't think it's stupid at all."

She smiled, relieved at his reaction. "I just want to be able to look back and reminisce with you properly, even if it's just the do-over."

"What if you remember by then?" he checked.

"Then we'll have even more to celebrate," she said. "Or maybe we'll get you really drunk so it all evens out," she joked.

"If you want to take advantage of me, Ace, just say so," he played along.

She gestured to the food. "Maybe you should eat something, to keep your energy up after your run."

He crawled over to her side of the bed, sinking down over her. "I have a different kind of hunger," he said, ready to fill his craving.

-X-

"Thanks for coming," Rory said from her set up at the coffee shop table. She'd secured a table for two in the corner, with her cell phone, laptop and folders all arranged exactly the way she liked them.

Lorelai slid into the empty seat and examined her command center. "Are you afraid Logan will be kidnapped? You aren't tracking him via GPS using his phone, are you?" she inquired, peering at the screen of the computer.

"I'm checking my email. I could track him via his phone, but I don't need to do that. He's at his dad's office. Or, he will be any minute. I called you for moral support."

"I got that, as much as I'd like to believe you just enjoy my company over a good cup of coffee. Have I mentioned that I'm totally jealous you live over a coffee shop?"

"How many nights did you spend sleeping a staircase away from the diner?"

Lorelai smiled with nostalgic joy. "Yeah, that was definitely a perk of that relationship."

Rory winced. "Sorry. I know it's not an easy subject for you."

Lorelai shrugged. "It wasn't meant to be. Not then, anyway. So, was Logan nervous?"

"He was stoic. Resigned," she described as she tapped on the edge of the table.

Lorelai watched her daughter. "How much coffee have you had?"

"Um," Rory said, doing the mental math. "Four?"

"Okay, I think it's time to switch to decaf," she said. "You still have dinner with his parents tonight."

"Logan's convinced it'll be a disaster," Rory confided. "It can't possibly be as bad as he's made it out to be."

Lorelai didn't look convinced. "He knows them pretty well."

"Yes, but the context is unprecedented. They've always wanted him to settle down and grow up, and he's definitely on his way to doing just that."

"They wanted him to take over the company and marry a trophy wife," Lorelai corrected. "It's the standard issue desire of parents in the upper echelon."

"I'm better than a trophy wife," Rory argued.

"I agree, as does Logan I'm sure, but these people won't be operating under logic or reasoning. They use a very strange ruler by which to measure worth. It's formed by tradition and prejudices and preconceived notions of how to keep family legacies alive. It's archaic and stupid, but you know what they say—if it's not broke, don't fix it."

"It is broken. Logan never wanted any of that."

"Yes, I know, but he's gone along with it, to some degree, most of his life. He harbored a string of women, any of whom would have stepped seamlessly into the role of his trophy wife for half his assets and almost none of his attention or fidelity. He took assignment after assignment from his father, each making him more miserable. So, now, for him to show up one day to say he's quitting and he's married the woman who wants a career and might put off having kids for her goals? It might very well be as bad as he thinks. Or worse."

Rory listened, growing more miserable as her mother spouted truth after truth. "I can't wait for this day to be over."

Lorelai put her hand on her shoulder. "Any luck triggering your memory?"

Rory shook her head. "No. Sometimes, I get this feeling that I can't quite put my finger on, but I think it's from that night."

"What kind of feeling?"

Rory tried to think of the best way to describe it. "It's almost like I have this incredible safety net, allowing me to do things I couldn't do on my own. I feel like the sky's the limit."

Lorelai nodded. "I hope he makes you feel that way."

"He deserves to have doubt, especially today. I owe him that."

"He's proven time and again that being with you is what he wants. And if he's cutting ties with his dad and their money, there's not anything they can hold over him to try to get him to change his mind."

"I just wish they didn't hate me so much," she said with a sigh.

"It's not you they hate. It's all that you stand for," Lorelai corrected.

"Gee, thanks, Mom," Rory grumbled.

"You know what I mean. You can't take it personally. It's about them, not you."

"Now you sound like Logan," she said with a raised eyebrow.

"I don't often take his side of things, but I do understand what he's trying to get out of. It's not unlike trying to get out of a cult or a gang."

"What, not the Mafia?" Rory queried glibly.

"Actually, now that you mention it," Lorelai mused.

"You're not making me feel better at all," Rory accused.

"Sorry, sorry. I'm sure his father has never put a hit out on anyone. Does that make you feel better?"

Rory frowned at her mother. "You don't really believe what you just said, do you?"

Lorelai hesitated. "I'm not exactly his biggest fan."

Rory wasn't going to argue that point. "Me either. Which is too bad, seeing as I'm now his daughter-in-law."

"I hear it's pretty normal not to like your in-laws. If I'd married your dad way back when, every holiday would have been an exercise in psychological warfare. Chris' father could make Mitchum Huntzberger a shell of his former self, a whimpering figure in the corner of the room, muttering to himself about his mother and all his failures as a man."

"I find it hard to think of him having a mother," Rory said, lost in thought. "Or having a heartbeat."

"You think he's a robot?" Lorelai giggled.

"Or undead."

"Zombie or vampire?"

"Vampire. Definitely vampire."

"So the worst-case scenario is that you tell them you got married and he feasts on the two of you and buries the bodies in his yard?"

"Mom, no. They have servants, I'm sure they bury the bodies," she said, going along with the gag.

"How silly of me, of course," she said, as if forgetting herself. "As long as you trust Logan, it'll all be fine. That's what it all comes down to. Minimal bloodsucking involved."

"Trust? Not love?" Rory asked.

"I've learned a thing or two about this, if you really want my advice."

"I do."

"I loved your dad. In a very hormonal, needful teenage kind of way. I mean, obviously, or you wouldn't exist. But I didn't trust him to provide me with a life that was stable. He wasn't that guy then, and he shouldn't have had to be. With Max, I knew I could trust him, and I liked him a lot, but I didn't need him. And he didn't need me."

"What about Luke?"

"Luke didn't trust me around your dad. He never did, because he saw me get tripped up by him before we got together. And even though it was just in his head, it was in the ether. So, he didn't trust me, which led to him not telling me he had a kid, and then it became a self-fulfilling prophesy when I then went straight to the one person Luke thought I'd go to when I was upset with him."

"Love is hard," Rory complained.

"And how. This is exactly why I'm still single, lo these many years."

"Not because of vampire father-in-laws?"

"Not with Luke. His parents are dead, which I kind of thought was a blessing, but then he had to go and have a kid that he didn't know about. It might be best for the man of my dreams to have no living family whatsoever."

"What about Dad now?" Rory asked quietly.

"Oh, honey. Just too much had happened, too much had changed."

"I thought you always wanted him to change, to be ready to settle down," Rory said.

"No, I know, I did. But he wasn't the only one that had changed. I had too. We didn't fit anymore."

"What if that happens with us?" Rory worried.

"Maybe you'll change together. You can meld together, like John Lennon and Yoko Ono."

"Maybe, if we survive tonight. I wish he'd call me to let me know how it's going," she said staring at her hibernating cell phone.

"He'll call you as soon as he's done," Lorelai soothed. "You want another coffee?"

Rory nodded and refreshed her email. "Yes, please."

-X-

His father stared at him from across the desk. Mitchum had attempted to change the venue to his favorite lunch spot, but Logan had remained firm on meeting in his father's office. This was business, and personal business would take place over a meal at the house later. He'd worn a suit and a poker face, and now that he'd delivered his decree in the most humble terms possible, by taking his part of the blame in his failure and offering his belief for why he'd never achieve what was expected of him, he tendered his resignation.

His father remained silent. At long last, he leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands behind his head. "Are you done?"

Logan didn't dare look away. "I am."

"I'm glad to see you're taking this seriously, putting this conversation off a week aside, but time is money, and I need you in Boston next."

Logan was dumbfounded. "I'm not going to Boston. Didn't you hear what I just said?"

"Logan, I've heard you threaten to quit more times than I can count at this point. You had a business deal go south, you lost capital. It happens. You can't let one failure define you, but maybe you did learn a thing or two about listening to me."

"You would have fired anyone else," he stated, knowing it to be a verifiable fact.

"You aren't anyone else," Mitchum said wearily. "Look, I need you in Boston next week, but we're already behind so I can put you in a temporary office here while we catch you up to speed."

"I can't be here every day or be in Boston next week."

"Because you quit?" he asked, obviously amused at the idea.

Logan straightened up. "Yes. And I have another commitment."

"You have a commitment to your family," he said sternly.

"I have a meeting in California this weekend. It's already arranged, and Rory's coming with me."

"If this is about getting a couple of days of sun with your girlfriend," Mitchum began, his tone as condescending as his attitude in general.

"I'm not here to argue with you about this. It's decided."

"Just like that?" Mitchum demanded.

"I believe it's for the best. You might not want to believe it, but it is."

"It's your legacy you're throwing away. It's what you were born to do."

"It's not my legacy, it was yours. You wanted it to be mine."

Mitchum went quiet again. "I suppose next you'll ask me to send your regrets to your mother for tonight."

"I'm resigning from the company, not the family," he said evenly. "We will be at dinner, as planned."

"What aren't you telling me?" he asked knowingly.

"Any number of things, but you have the relevant information for the time being," Logan offered curtly.

"Is Rory pregnant?"

Logan looked up at the ceiling with a groan. "Why does everyone keep assuming that?"

"Son, mistakes happen."

"It's not a mistake, and she's not pregnant," he spat out.

"Then what is going on?"

"We're married, okay? We got married last weekend," he blurted out with a strange sense of satisfaction.

He saw what he'd liken to anger, then determination, pass through his father's eyes. Mitchum pressed his intercom button. "Marie, cancel my appointments for the rest of the day."

Logan stared down at his father's phone with trepidation. "Why did you do that?"

Mitchum stood. "I need a drink. Join me."

-X-

Rory was worried. He should have called by now, or at least sent a text offering her some kind of clue as to how it had gone. A small, tiny, unsubstantiated fear flashed in her mind that he'd stopped off somewhere in the city for a drink, forgetting about his promise to her and their plans for dinner. It was arguably a suitable excuse to get a drink, and when Logan set his mind to dissolving his troubles with alcohol in the past, he was masterful in the craft. She chastised herself for even having the thought, though she did send her mother home so if the worst occurred she could have it out with him in private.

By noon, she couldn't stand waiting silently. She pulled out her phone and noticed she'd missed a call and a text from him. She cursed her spotty cell phone service, vowing to change plans the second she was eligible, and realizing it would probably make the most sense for them to get a joint plan. She opened his text, which was apologetic and vague.

_Sorry for the delay. At a bar in Midtown, be home as soon as I can. L_

A bar in Midtown. He was still in New York, and he was day drinking. None of this spoke of confidence, and she sat down on the edge of their bed and closed her eyes, willing some kind of inner instinct on what a good wife might do to strike her.

She attempted to quiet her inner monologue and pushed the button to reply to him.

_OK. Hope it went well. Have class at 2. See you after._

She put her phone down after a few minutes of no response, and decided that she did have to go to class, and sitting around worrying about him wasn't going to help anyone. She pulled out her class work and bags and resolved to go about her day as if everything was under control.

-X-

Her response was timely and calm, though he'd anticipated having to excuse himself to explain to her on the phone as to why he was at a bar in lieu of lunch or simply on his way back home. He pocketed his phone and sipped at his drink as his father finished off his first round.

"I've never seen you drink before dinner," Logan commented with a certain amount of judgment.

"Today is unusual, for many reasons. One for the books, as they say."

"Dad, look, I know you're not happy about my actions, but I didn't tell you to get your approval."

Mitchum regarded his son. "You think I don't approve of your career choices or Rory?"

Logan honestly couldn't choose. "Either, I would imagine."

"Your grandmother cried for three weeks when I brought your mother home," he remembered.

"Why?" Logan asked.

Mitchum lifted his eyebrows. "She was pregnant, for one."

"Yeah, I know," Logan said dismissively.

"You knew?"

"Honor and I can do simple math," Logan said without emotion.

"Your mother worked very hard to fit into the mold that my mother had formed, for a Huntzberger wife. Needless to say, it didn't come naturally to her."

"Rory doesn't have to prove anything to anyone. And she's not pregnant," he repeated.

"So you said," he said, nodding slowly. "Whose idea was it?"

"Excuse me?"

"Someone had to bring it up first, the idea of getting married," he led. "Who was it?"

"Me. It was my idea. I bought a ring, I proposed."

"You love her?"

"You know that I do," Logan said.

"You trust her?" he followed up, narrowing his gaze in an appraising fashion, ready to catch any fleeting moment of uncertainty.

"Why wouldn't I trust her? She's never given me any reason to doubt her."

"That's not the same as trusting her," Mitchum contended.

"Well, I do. I trust her with my life."

"And she trusts you?"

"Are you trying to undermine this?" Logan asked, clearly lacking trust at the moment.

"I want to make sure you've acted out of more than spontaneity."

"She trusts me. We haven't gone into this blind."

"I'm glad to hear it," he said, starting his next drink. "To your new ventures," he said as he raised it in the air.

"You mean that?" Logan asked in disbelief.

"As you said, you left the company, not the family. Our family is growing, and that's something to celebrate."

"Thank you," he said, his suspicions at an all time high.

"You might not always agree with our family traditions, but there are customs that adding a new family member calls for. My father took me out for a drink when I got married. Are you sure you don't want something stronger than club soda?"

"I'll have an extra drink tonight," he promised. "I appreciate the gesture."

Mitchum took a drink. "It's more than a gesture."

-X-

Rory appeared high strung, though she was seated on the bed when he returned. She was perched on the edge, chewing at a fingernail, and her eyes shone with nervous energy. "You're back."

He smiled. "You missed me?"

"I've been going crazy. How did it go? What did he say? What took so long?"

"I'll get to that, but first, come here. I missed you," he said, pulling her frenzied form in for a kiss. She relaxed, if slightly, against him. As the kiss lingered, she noticed that he'd either found a way to hide alcohol on his breath or he hadn't had a drop of alcohol.

"What?" he asked as she stared at him with a wrinkle in the skin over her eyes.

"You said you were at a bar."

"I was," he affirmed. "Dad was in the mood for a drink."

She winced. "He took it that well, huh?"

"He didn't believe me, he thought it was a bluff or a game or, I don't know. He wanted me to sign on for a stint in Boston next."

"Oh," she said, as if processing it. "But you got him to believe you?"

He nodded. "I did. And, you should know," he said, offering her a sheepish glance.

"What?"

"I told him we got married. It just came out. But he was surprisingly supportive about it."

"He was not," she argued with understandable disbelief.

"He toasted me. Well, he toasted. I sat gaping at him."

"He was happy that you married me?" she asked, still in disbelief.

"He said it was the kind of occasion that should be celebrated," he conveyed.

She did her best to parse that for meaning. "Is that code for something?"

He shrugged. "I honestly don't know."

"So, what's dinner going to be like?"

He shrugged his shoulders up and held them for a beat. "I have no idea."

"Will he tell your mom?"

"Got me."

"But…," she started, her eyes a little wide in alarm.

"Rory, hey, it's okay. He didn't disown me, which is actually how I always envisioned this playing out. We'll go to dinner and celebrate our marriage."

"With your family."

"Honor and Josh are coming," he added, as if it might lessen the blow.

"I like Honor. Josh never talks," she noted.

"Josh married Honor. He doesn't need to talk," he joked seriously.

Rory rolled her eyes. "Maybe he and I will be put at the end of the table by ourselves, like a kid table at Thanksgiving."

"That's just wishful thinking," he said, dashing her hopes. "And for the record, I'd much rather go to your family for Thanksgiving than mine. My mother uses china that she doesn't allow anyone to actually touch, even with utensils, and she smokes so much that everything has a faint odor of burnt tobacco. And one pie, which contains no fat or sugar."

Rory wrinkled her nose. "Who eats that?"

"Her, on the back patio, while she smokes with one hand and digs in with a fork with the other. She's very adept at balancing a wineglass on the arm of her teak chair."

"At least you have traditions," she said, barely holding back her laughter.

"I bet your family eats real pie."

"Yes we do, for days. We always go to no fewer than three houses for dinner, and everyone sends us home with leftovers—but the best of course is Sookie's. Mom buys paper plates and plastic silverware and we eat leftovers the next day or two with no clean-up, with gravy on everything to the point that we have to use four plates just to make sure they don't fall apart on us."

"You're not kidding," he said plaintively.

She smiled. "Nope."

"What's the recovery time on something like that?" he wondered.

"For us, or amateurs?" she asked, teasing him.

"I love all your family traditions. Snow walks and birthday weeks and all that."

"It is what you signed on for," she said with a sigh.

"Maybe I should consider taking your name, considering the fact I'm walking away from most of what it's supposed to mean to be a Huntzberger. You don't want to take it anyway."

She was stricken at the implications of his comment, even though he didn't seem bothered by the fact. "I never said I wouldn't take your name."

"At your grandparents, you said," he began, but she reached for him and squeezed his arm.

"This whole month that we're taking, it allows for this buffer that almost feels like we're playing chicken with doubt, and doing that, taking your name; if I took your name and we did get the annulment, it wouldn't feel like we were just correcting a mistake. It would feel like I was giving you back your name, and changing who I was, even if it wasn't for long… does that make sense?"

"I don't want you to feel like that. I don't have doubts, not about me or you."

She closed her eyes, hating the admission she had to make. "I thought you were brushing tonight off. When I got the text, saying you were at a bar in New York. I know I shouldn't have jumped to that conclusion."

"I can't blame you. It's happened before," he said slowly.

"It was only a second. It occurred to me and I felt awful, not because I thought you would do that, but for even thinking it. I trust you, Logan. I want you to know that. Maybe I shouldn't have even told you," she groaned at her own stupidity.

"This is exactly the stuff you need to tell me. If we keep that stuff in, we won't last the month. I don't know what tonight will be like or next week, but I know I love you. I know I trust you. I know that eventually I will have earned your trust enough that you won't worry that I might blow off an important event."

"You don't have anything to prove to me."

"Yes, I do. And after tonight, I might have some apologizing to do on behalf of my parents. And do me a favor, just ignore any and all mentions of how quickly we should have children if my parents somehow accept this. My parents started in on Honor the day after they got back from their honeymoon."

"Does Honor want kids?"

"Yeah, sure. But she's happy to delay it a bit if it causes my mother discomfort."

Rory smiled. "Then I guess Honor and I might be best friends, depending on how pissed your mom is tonight."

"Now you're getting the hang of Huntzberger family politics," he said encouragingly.

"I'm really not opposed to taking your name. I want you to know that."

He nodded. "It's okay, either way. Lots of women keep their names."

"Maybe I'll take it, but still use Gilmore for work."

"Sounds like a good compromise," he agreed.

"So, how many drinks did your dad have?"

"A few. He walked out of the bar on his own two feet, looking reasonably steady, and got into a cab."

"I feel like we should have a safe word," she said, concern creeping back in her voice.

"I thought it was…?" he asked in a low tone that made her blush.

"Not that kind of safe word," she cut him off quickly. "I mean for at your folks' house, if things get bad and one of us wants to leave."

"So it is like the sex one, but it's code to be used in front of others instead of a failsafe between us."

"Yes," she agreed. "But it has to be a different word. I'd die of embarrassment if you actually said our sex safe word in front of your parents."

He smiled widely. "You've never had to use it yet."

She blushed more furiously. "You're a gentleman."

He shook his head, calling her out. "No, I'm not. At least, not all the time."

"Can we focus?" she asked as she shifted and squirmed in front of him on the bed.

"I suggest we shift our focus. We have a couple of hours."

Her focus crumpled with her resolve as he brushed his lips across her neck and sucked the skin over her pulse point in between his teeth. "Maybe it would be good for tension release," she reasoned as they reclined back on the bed.

"Remember, you promised me we could be late," he murmured against her skin.

"I did, didn't I? Well, I'd hate to break my promises to you," she said with a sigh of contentment.

"I should disclose that at no time did I promise to be a gentleman," he added huskily, as he slid down her body, making her shiver with delight and anticipation.


	9. Advice Amidst an Ambush

Trial of Error

Chapter Nine: Advice Amidst an Ambush

Description: Set just after Will You Be My Lorelai Gilmore? Logan heads off to Vegas with Colin and Finn, but Rory doesn't let it just pass without having her say. Unfortunately for Rory, what happens in Vegas isn't going to stay in Vegas.

Ship: Rogan

Rating: T

Rory got out of the car, stretching her legs from the drive from their apartment. The looming magnificence of the house, if one might call it as such, was just as impressive and daunting as it was the first time she had visited. It was more of an estate than a simple residence, including grounds manicured with immaculate detail and outbuildings that an estate demanded. She remembered the enormity of the interior, the impossibly high ceilings that reminded her of fine museums—and an art collection to match. Rooms upon rooms that existed merely to impress and showcase possessions rather than for personal use. Rooms that were meant to entertain in were still full of showcases, but they included expensive furniture that was meant to be perched on rather than relaxed upon.

Logan came around to her side, as she lingered with the passenger-side car door open. He shut the door for her and leaned against it. "Ready, wife?"

She shot him an alarmed glance. "Do you smell smoke?"

He smiled warmly. "It's probably Mom. My guess is that Dad told her about our wedded bliss."

"Please don't joke," she urged. "I have to go meet my in-laws, who weren't even keen on my being your girlfriend."

"The good thing about your in-laws," he began, clearly using her language to mock her, "is the sheer volume of liquor they keep in the house. It's better stocked half the bars in the city."

"Your solution for me to get through this evening is to get sloshed?" she asked, staring at him in disbelief.

"The key to dealing with them is two-fold. First, don't let them get to you. I find a healthy dose of 'I'm Rubber and You're Glue' comes in handy in any interaction. Second, pick a vice and apply it liberally. Very liberally. Overindulge, for best results."

She remained unconvinced. "That is the worst advice I've ever heard."

He shook his head. "Who is the expert here? Rory, they've already decided how they feel about you and us. Nothing you could do or say will sway them from their prejudices and preconceptions. They are nothing if not set in their ways. You could be the sweetest, most agreeable creature on earth or you could go in there swearing like a sailor and dressed like a hooker, and it wouldn't make a bit of difference."

"Are you going to drink?" she asked.

"Like a tipsy fish," he said with a bemused grin.

"I just want them to take us seriously," she said, standing her ground. "Your dad," she began, but he leaned in and kissed her silent.

"I know," he whispered, his lips pliant and still moving against hers as he spoke. "If he so much as looks at you sideways, I'll get you out of there. You didn't let me have it out with him last time, and that killed me. It's different now."

"I don't get a say?" she asked.

His eyes shone with intensity. "You're my wife. I'm not going to let anyone say a bad word to you or about you."

"Okay," she whispered.

They stayed together, his forehead pressed to hers and one hand of his cupping the back of her head until the front door opened. Honor leaned out and called to them.

"I thought I heard a car pull up. Do you plan on joining us or are you waiting until Mom finishes a carton?"

He kissed Rory's forehead and slipped his hand into hers, squeezing lightly as he turned toward his sister. "She hasn't been into the sherry yet, has she?"

Honor glanced at him reproachfully. "You can't do anything half-assed, can you little brother? Always trying to create as much of a stir as possible."

He smirked. "You love it."

"It's an admirable quality I don't fault you for one bit," she said with a grin. She turned to Rory. "I've always wanted a sister. Logan never would let me borrow his clothes."

Rory tried to suppress her smile as she looked to Logan. She always had regarded Honor fondly. "You're welcome to share anything in my closet, but I already share most of my clothes with my mother, and she tends to forget to return all my favorite shoes."

"We should go on a shopping trip and invite her along!" Honor decided.

"Can we perhaps get through one family gathering at a time?" Logan requested.

"Party pooper," Honor alleged.

"Where's Josh?" he inquired.

"He's inside. With Dad."

"You're evil."

"Like you can talk!" she said, pointing a finger quite literally at him.

"Okay, you two, enough. United fronts, remember? Divided we fall? Did we learn nothing from history?"

"Honor's more of an 'every man for himself,' 'live and let die' kind of girl," Logan summarized for Rory.

"You can fend for yourself," she said, "but I'll stand with Rory. She's good people. I'm still not sure what she sees in you."

Logan turned to Rory. "I'm thirsty."

Rory took a steadying breath. "Let's go. It can't be as bad as the build-up."

Honor giggled and forged ahead of them. Rory gripped Logan's elbow hard, not only catching his attention, but making him wince. "Can it?"

"I can't possibly prepare you more than I have. Ready?"

Rory shook her head. "Not even a little bit."

He nodded curtly. "That's my girl. Let's go."

-X-

Always expect an ambush. That should have been his advice. Of course, no one expects the Spanish Inquisition, just one of many truths she'd learned from Monty Python. She, Rory Gilmore, was actually struck speechless once they reached the formal sitting room and introductions were made.

Logan wasn't faring much better. His ease with words was replaced with a detached concern that etched his face and caused him to keep a protective arm around Rory's waist at all times. It sounded like the beginning of a bad joke in his head: a minister, a lawyer, and an old debutante walk into the room. He didn't want to stick around for the punch line, as he already knew the joke was on him.

"You're late," Mitchum noted.

Logan swallowed thickly. "Traffic."

"Rory, we're so glad you could join us this evening," Mitchum said graciously, oozing his own brand of bravado and cultured pleasantness as he reached out to her.

Rory stiffened further as he neared her, unsure as to what the acceptable reaction was to having a man she had actively hated and was now related to come close enough to kiss her briefly on the cheek. "Oh."

"Logan, you remember Father Barton?" his mother asked brightly. She was so cheerful that he could practically hear the strained strings of sanity within her being plucked.

"Can't say that I do," he said, though he offered a handshake as he was taught to do regardless.

"I guess he's only started in the last three years, is that right? He took over when Father Wilson retired. Logan's been so busy with work, he never gets to attend services with us."

Rory cut her eyes to Logan, trying to envision him in church, any church. It didn't fit, but not much of him fit with so much of went on in that house it seemed. It was like trying to picture her mother's youth under Emily Gilmore's tutelage.

"I find young professionals are often the most lapsed these days, due to their demanding schedules," the minister said politely.

"Are you with the church, too?" Rory asked the other man, who'd been otherwise silent.

"Harold Lyman," he offered his hand.

"My father's lawyer," Logan said tersely.

"Lawyer?" Rory echoed.

"Why don't we refresh everyone's drinks? Dinner should be ready soon, shouldn't it dear?" Mitchum asked Shira.

"I'll just go check. Excuse me," she said, disappearing from view as quickly as possible.

Honor handed Rory something pink in a martini glass and winked at her. "I would like to officially congratulate you for doing the impossible."

"Honor, please," Mitchum groused.

"No, Daddy, honestly. Logan got married, and it's common knowledge that marriage has always been at the top of his list of things to avoid on principle."

"I thought that was growing up in general," Mitchum mused.

"These are what pass for compliments in this house," Logan said in a sidebar to Rory.

"I was complimenting Rory," Honor spoke over him. "I think you've picked a swell gal."

Rory smiled at Honor. "Thank you. I think."

"I think we all agree that Rory is a lovely girl," Mitchum agreed. "I think once we get through the details, everyone will be very pleased at the match."

"Details? What details? We eloped," Logan said. "I explained it all to you earlier."

"You told me that you got married in Las Vegas. You can't expect anything that happens in Las Vegas to be taken seriously. You acted rashly, and I can't say I'm surprised, but now we have to forge on properly."

"With a minister and a lawyer?" Logan checked.

"Would you prefer a priest or a rabbi?" Honor teased.

"Not now," Logan said. "Dad, what is all this? You said this was to be a family celebration."

"And it is. This is simply how we do things in this family. You have a proper wedding, in a church with guests and a goddamn cake."

Logan fumed. "I don't need a cake. We didn't get married for you, we did it for us."

"That doesn't take away from the fact that your actions have an effect on this family. Your inheritance has changed, Rory needs to be added into the legal wording, and she needs to be taken over the contingencies."

"Contingencies?" Rory asked.

Logan remained focused on his father. "I'm not a part of the business anymore, doesn't all that fall away? I'm not your heir."

"You may not want the business, but you are still my heir. I didn't write the contracts, it's out of my hands. You said yourself you weren't quitting the family, and this is part of being in this family. When you get married, your share changes, just like when you have a child."

"Boys are best," Honor proffered, unasked and clearly annoyed, mostly for Rory's benefit. "So you're not caught completely off-guard when you read the archaic document."

"What is she talking about?" Rory demanded of Logan.

He hesitated, too long. "It's all legal nonsense."

"If it's all nonsense, sign your share over to me, Mr. Heir," Honor tossed her words at him from across the room.

"As if you won't have enough as it is," he glared at her. "I didn't marry Rory for the monetary gain."

"You get a bigger inheritance for marrying me?" Rory squeaked.

"Not you specifically," Harold piped up. "Any suitable female of childbearing age."

"Isn't the wording just charming? Doesn't make you feel at all like chattel, does it?" Honor asked ironically.

Rory turned to Logan, her eyes wide with some emotion he was afraid to pinpoint. "You knew about this?"

"Of course he knew about this," Mitchum stated.

"Excuse me, she was talking to me. We'll be right back," Logan said, steering Rory out of the room. She felt her feet moving as he guided her, into a room toward the back of the house that opened out into the back patio.

"Is this a solarium?" she asked with what was left of her wits.

"Rory, I had no idea about the details. He told me to be careful about my inheritance, years ago, and showed me all these stacks of documents. I was fifteen; I didn't read any of them. I don't care about any of that, I never did. You know that."

She blinked, his face finally coming into focus. She'd only had a few sips of her drink which tasted nothing like alcohol, but everything seemed like it was swimming around her. "What kind of family bases a person's worth on getting married or having boys?"

"It wasn't my doing. I just want you to know that it's one of their tricks. I told you, it's important that nothing they do or say get to you."

She nodded numbly. "Right."

He stared at her, appraising her mental state. "Are we okay?"

She made direct eye contact. "Yes."

He let out a breath. "Okay."

They ran into Shira on their way back to the others. "Oh, good. I caught you two alone. Logan, do you mind if Rory and I have a little chat?"

Logan kept his arm around Rory. "Mom, I," he began, but Rory put her hand on his arm.

"It's fine."

"Yes, it's fine. We'll be right back," Shira said. Logan nodded tightly, gave Rory a pointed look, and went back into the sitting room.

Shira watched Logan disappear and turned to Rory. "It's such a nice night out."

Rory followed Shira out through the same room she and Logan had occupied, onto the back patio. There on a patio table was Shira's set up, with a half-full ashtray and a full bottle of sherry with a sipping glass next to it, at the ready. "Marrying into this family isn't easy."

Rory remained stoic. "That seems to be by specific design."

Shira smiled with practiced ease. "Yes, in fact it was. At the time the family built their fortune, they felt it necessary to put certain safeguards into place. It's a big responsibility, to have all this money. Mitchum comes from a long line of very powerful, very smart men."

Rory set her jaw. "I understand that."

"Logan's always tried to separate himself from his lineage, but he's not the first. Mitchum was prepared to strike out on his own when he was younger. He had all these plans, and none of them had much to do with following in his father's footsteps."

Rory frowned, feeling discomfort at the level of disclosure Shira was getting into. "People change, I guess."

"Yes, but there's a cost," she said with a sigh. "You're from a very fine family. You could be such an asset to us all."

A strange prickling tripped its way up Rory's spine. "I'm not sure I understand."

"Logan's too smart for his own good. He has such talent, but he's always railed against direction."

"Are we talking about Logan's job?" Rory asked. "That's not up for discussion, nor is it anything I intend on interfering with."

"Rory, you need to be practical. You're a married woman now. His success is yours. It's well and good to want a career of your own, I understand it myself. And I know you're an adept journalist. Mitchum put you to the test, and it seems you've become better for it."

"Excuse me?" Rory asked, flabbergasted.

"But I'm telling you, there's a cost. It takes a lot of work, to be a good wife; to keep your husband happy and on task and to raise children. I thought it would be easy, with how quickly Honor came, but then we tried for Logan and there were lost pregnancies, and the pressure of trying for a boy. If we'd had another girl, that would have meant years more of disappointment and more time hoping that none of his flings would come up pregnant with a boy."

Rory fought the urge to flee and with the impossible task of coming up with an appropriate retort. "We haven't discussed children."

"I'm trying to help you. I had an uphill battle, but I came through it. I'm still here."

"I'm not sure what I'm supposed to gain from this chat," Rory said plainly. "Logan and I are a team."

"Good, that's good. It took so long for us to get there. It's harder these days, being able to find out the sex of the baby before it's born. There's less time to nail things down."

Realization washed over Rory. "I'm not pregnant."

"Dear, there's no shame in it. I made sure Honor gave you a virgin cocktail," she added as if she'd done her a favor.

"I'm glad you are so open-minded about the concept, but we didn't get married because Logan thought he had no choice."

"Let's not pretend. We're women, and now we're family. Logan has never been the committed sort. It's in his genetics, dear, the Huntzberger men are charismatic and love the company of women. It's their blessing and their curse."

"You sound so resigned about the fact that your husband and son might cheat on their wives."

"It's a fact of life, one you must come to grips with. You're not powerless, but you must be smart about how you punish him."

"I don't want to punish him! He's not going to cheat, and I'm not pregnant."

Shira sighed, clearly frustrated. "You want us to believe that you two just went off to Vegas and got married on a lark?"

"It wasn't a lark. I went there to tell him things had to change, the way our relationship was going. I wasn't happy watching him become so miserable at work, and then he just took off to Vegas with Colin and Finn. I wanted him to know that I loved him, but things couldn't keep going like they were."

Shira smirked. "So you do know something about getting what you want from my son."

She met her eyes, growing angrier by each passing moment. "I didn't go there to get married. I went because… because I love him and I needed him to understand that if he loved me, he couldn't bail on me like he had."

Shira looked unmoved. "You got what you wanted."

"I didn't want to get married! When he proposed, I was stunned. Not only because it was so out of left field, but because I felt myself wanting to say yes. Somewhere in here," she said, her hand at her chest. "I felt the word built up, ready to come out even before I said it. I wanted to marry him despite being mad at him. In fact, I realized that I should marry him because I was so mad at him. No one else has ever made me so angry, or so heartbroken, or so happy."

"Sentiment will only carry you so far past the honeymoon."

Rory steeled herself. "He promised me that this was a new beginning. That we'd put each other first and stop holding back things that affected our lives."

Shira raised an eyebrow. "Like the family inheritance?"

"Excuse me," Rory said, turning in search of her husband. Logan was refilling his glass, and his unsteady hand spoke of anger or insobriety, or both. His head swiveled to her.

"Want some?"

"No. I haven't had any, I guess I shouldn't start now, with you," she gestured to his overused glass.

"Don't worry, I'm fine," he protested.

"No, you're not fine. You have no idea how not fine you are. Your mother just had a chat with me. Not only was she sure I was pregnant, but she wanted to advise me how best to deal with your inevitable indiscretions."

"I'll talk to her," he said wearily. "But can it wait five minutes? I just got rid of the minister and the lawyer, though Dad made an appointment for us to go to the office and be fully debriefed on the contents of the family papers. I'll get us out of that too," he paused. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I talked to your mother. I told why we got married—more than that, how I felt when you proposed. I told her that you promised me that we'd start fresh and tell each other everything, not hold anything back."

Even through his haze of alcohol, clarity of understanding broke through. "You remember?"

She smiled widely, nodding as he put down his drink and swept her up in his arms, spinning her around. For a second, she forgot where they were, as well as the fact that they had an audience. It reminded her of the overwhelming joy she'd felt in Vegas.

"When, how?" he asked, mystified and happy.

"It just fell into place, while I was talking. Your mother was trying to prepare me for how my life was going to go, but I knew she was wrong. I knew, and then I knew why I knew. It just came back, in a rush."

"We have to celebrate," he declared, far more loudly than the rest of their conversation.

"Isn't that what tonight is?" she asked dryly, sarcasm lining her words.

"God, I love you," he said, kissing her.

"If you're going to persist in such demonstrative shows of affection, could you at least have the dignity to go up to your old room?" Honor asked from the settee.

Mitchum came back into the room, seeing his daughter and her husband seated idly and his son and new daughter-in-law embracing by the bar. "Your mother's opened the sherry."

Honor groaned. "I'm ordering a pizza on the way home. Come, Josh," she beckoned as she stood to depart.

"It didn't have to be this way," Mitchum said to Logan.

Rory held tight to his side as he answered. "Yes, it did, Dad. If you want, I'll meet with the lawyer, but it all needs to be rewritten. Honor can have more. Let her get a bump for being firstborn or having a girl or for keeping Josh from smothering her in her sleep," he said with a wistful smile.

"Rory, I'll call you and we'll have lunch. Soon, okay?" Honor asked, leaning in to kiss her cheek.

"Sure," Rory promised.

"What happened on the patio?" Mitchum asked Rory, for once not in a demanding tone.

"We discussed the kind of wives we wanted to be," Rory said calmly.

"We're gonna go," Logan said. "You'll pass on our goodbyes to Mom?"

"You can't deny everything you are, Logan. Not forever."

Logan stood facing his father. "I realize that. This is merely the result."

Rory couldn't help but feeling sorry for Mitchum as Logan once again steered her, this time out of the house.

-X-

"Are you hungry?" Rory asked from behind the wheel of his sports car. She knew how to drive a stick, thanks in part to a brief introduction from Luke years ago and a crash course from Logan the first time she'd had to drive him home when he was in no state to drive. He'd sat slumped over with his seat belt on in the passenger seat, guiding her on when to press the clutch and how to feel the engine's readiness to shift with acceleration. Her experiences with Logan had always made her glad that she was a quick study, she never knowing what was coming down the pike.

"Not really. I just want to go home," he said, his hand on her thigh and his lips at her shoulder.

"Then stop. I'll crash and kill us both if you keep that up," she advised, her eyes remaining glued out the windshield.

"As my wife, you should know I'd rather die happy. And I'm happy now," he said.

"I want to die happy as well, and dying in a flaming car crash with my underwear showing doesn't qualify."

He was quiet for a minute, but didn't withdraw from her. "I can't believe you remember."

She smiled sidelong at him. "Me either. Apparently I just needed to be provoked."

"It's what my parents excel at. I hope my mother wasn't too forthcoming with you."

Rory let out a bark of a laugh. "It's completely messed up, what some people will do for money or prestige. I'd rather be penniless."

"If I take that job in California, we won't be penniless. We'll probably have to work off a budget until the IPO hits, but I'm going to take care of you, no matter what."

"I'm not worried about that, you know that. I don't need anything extravagant. I like our apartment. I like it just having the things we need. I like that we don't have to sell ourselves out to keep it, and when I come home to it, you're there. That's all I need."

"This is just the beginning," he said.

"Logan," she said, hesitant to intrude on his joy.

"Yes?"

"It's just… the night we got married, there was something else I remembered about it. Something I'm not sure you know."

"What's that?"

"I thought, when you proposed, that there was a chance that you were just trying to make me forget that I was mad."

"You know that's not why," he said. "I had the ring."

"I do, now, yes, I'm sure. But that's why I suggested getting married right then. I wanted to see how serious you were; I didn't think you'd agree. When your mom said there were ways of managing you, of keeping you in line, it hit me that what I'd done was no better than her advice. I was testing you, and I didn't think you'd agree to it, trying to call your bluff. I thought you still wanted time, to be able to back out or reconsider or even just adjust. Sweeping declarations are one thing, and I know in the heat of the moment you mean the things you say, the promises you make. I just wanted you to know. And I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?"

"My intentions weren't completely forthcoming."

He blinked at her. "But you went through with it anyway."

She nodded. "If I hadn't been drunk, maybe I wouldn't have. But maybe I wouldn't have suggested getting married straightaway either."

"Are you saying you wish we would have waited?" he asked, confused by her admission.

"No. I just don't want to become a wife that has to manipulate her husband to get what she wants, or for any other purpose. I didn't know I wanted to be anyone's wife. I didn't know so much, going into this. I just don't want you to be sorry about how this turns out. You've given up your job and probably a good chunk of your family's money, and your bachelorhood."

"Let's forget the fact that I would have given all that up anyway," he said decisively. "If I wouldn't have done it for you, with or without time to reconsider, then I don't deserve to be your husband."

"That's sweet, it is, but look at us. Everyone keeps saying that we aren't the type of people that they expected to get married—not only to each other, but to anyone. Do you really think we have a chance at making this work?"

"I think that's exactly why we have a chance at making this work," he said, and she could tell that he wasn't just saying words to reassure her. He believed it, and it made her hope he was right.


	10. Backup

Trial of Error

Chapter Ten: Backup

Description: Set just after Will You Be My Lorelai Gilmore? Logan heads off to Vegas with Colin and Finn, but Rory doesn't let it just pass without having her say. Unfortunately for Rory, what happens in Vegas isn't going to stay in Vegas.

Ship: Rogan

Rating: T

Logan came away from the counter with three large coffees, all black. He navigated back to a table where Lorelai sat in wait, as he gave her two cups and kept one for himself. He slid his wallet back into the inside pocket of the jacket in one of his good suits, ready to head off to an interview.

"Thanks for coming," he said earnestly.

"You made it sound important. Is she okay?"

Logan nodded with consideration. "Yeah, she's fine. But we were at my parents' house last night and sometimes that can have aftereffects that sink in later on, the kind that inspire long walks on the edge of bridges or overpasses. This interview came up last minute, and while it might not amount to anything, it's based in New York, and I know Rory would rather stay on the East Coast, so it was worth checking out."

Lorelai gave a one-shouldered shrug. "Not that my opinion counts, but I wouldn't hate the idea of you guys sticking around myself."

Logan grinned at her forthcoming honesty. "I know. But you know how she gets with unscheduled time and stress, and she doesn't have a morning class on Mondays and I just thought it would be a good idea if she had company."

"She's lucky to have us," Lorelai declared.

"I can't disagree," he added.

"Now, before I go up there and she tells me how fine she is," she said, straining the f-word, "how did things go, really?"

He hesitated. "My parents want us to have a real wedding, which to them is a half-million-dollar production. My father brought in the legal team and the ministry, all to welcome her to the family properly."

"Sadly, I have been there," Lorelai said with a sigh. "But how was the mood?"

"They were cordial—though offended that we weren't willing to bend to their wishes, of course. My mother did her best to break Rory with psychological torture, but luckily her methods aren't as persuasive as my father's. She and Rory don't exactly share common mentalities to begin with."

"I suppose if they were warm and welcoming, it would be scarier than anything else," Lorelai mused.

"It would terrify me to my very core, that's for sure. Look, head on up. I need to run if I'm going to make the train."

"Good luck. And I'm not just saying that because I want you two to stay local. I hope you'll find something you love."

"Thanks," he said, with a nod as he made his way out the door. Lorelai armed herself with both coffees and made her way out to the stairwell and up to her daughter's newlywed apartment.

Rory opened readily at her mother's knock, looking surprised but appreciative. "You brought me coffee?"

"Your _husband_ thought you might like some company."

Rory rolled her eyes but took the drink. "I'm fine. I'm more than fine. I have a free morning, my _husband_ has an interview, and I have coffee."

Lorelai made a strangled noise. "I'm still getting used to the whole husband part, myself."

Rory sat cross-legged on her unmade bed and beamed at her mother. "I noticed. I'm still adapting myself, but it helps that I remember actually getting married now."

Lorelai stopped in her tracks. "Whoa. When did that happen?"

"I was out on the back patio at his parents' compound, listening to his mother tell me about the obligations of Huntzberger wives and how to come to terms with Logan sleeping around if he wants to," she said as if it were a normal recollection.

"She did not!"

"Oh, she did. But I started defending us, and our right to live our lives the way we want, and it just all came back to me."

"Who would have thought that talking to Shira would have proved useful?"

"Right? Anyway, all the little bits that had come back just fit together like a puzzle and it was like I was there. I mean, I was there, at the time, but reliving it, for the first time with my own memories."

"Without delving into the dirty parts of your becoming a wife, tell me all about it," Lorelai encouraged.

"It was surreal. We were just so spontaneous, which admittedly, is more normal for Logan than for me, but it evolved so naturally at the same time. One minute I was yelling at him for taking off, then we were talking about how we saw things going from here on out, then we were engaged."

"And thanks to Las Vegas, you didn't have to wait to do the deed."

Rory ran her finger around the top of her cup, tracing the grooves of the lid. "Are you mad? That you didn't get to be there?"

"Mad? No. Maybe a tiny, itty-bitty bit disappointed. I mean, you are my only kid, and while I wasn't exactly harboring Emily Gilmore-esque dreams about planning your wedding, I did sort of think I'd be there when and if the day came."

Rory nodded in understanding. "I thought that too. You know, if his parents get their way, you'll get to be at the reenactment."

"Reenactment? What is it, your wedding or a historic battle?"

"If we let Shira and Emily plan a wedding reception together, it could be both," Rory mused.

Lorelai laughed. "True enough. I've never seen my mother hate anyone quite as much as she does Shira Huntzberger. And now you've gone and married the enemy."

"You can't hate him that much, if you came when he called."

"He was concerned about you, I can't fault him for that. And I've never hated him. Hate is such a strong word, one I like to reserve for women who look better in an outfit than I do. Logan could never pull off my little black dress."

"I'm really fine. I mean, I might have woken up once or twice last night, a little concerned."

"Concerned about what?"

"Well, just everything. I have finals coming up soon."

"Is that all?"

Rory shrugged. "We're going out of town at the end of the week, to California. I've had to do a little juggling with my schedule."

"Anything else?"

Rory shrugged, looking away. "I don't exactly have job offers pouring in yet."

"It's early."

"I know, but it's just all always in the back of my mind. I'm trying to stay in the present moment and roll with the punches, but it's hard for me. I'm not exactly the most carefree person in the world."

Lorelai nodded sympathetically. "You like to have a plan."

"And I know it's something I should work on, being less constrained. I want to be able to enjoy life as it comes. That's a lot of the reason I'm with Logan. He helps me live in the moment."

Lorelai cringed. "Feel free to stop before you get gushy and gross."

Rory stuck her tongue out at her mother. "My point is, he's worth any compromises I might have to make."

"I've heard marriage involves quite a lot of compromise," Lorelai offered. "At least, when one wishes to stay married."

Rory winced. "Yes, well, I didn't say it would be easy. I'm still not sure I'll be successful at it. But I've promised him my best effort and I love him. I just hope those things are enough."

"Just take it one day at a time. That's what I did, when we opened the Dragonfly. That and raising you are the two most dedicated things I ever did, and the key to that kind of commitment is to take things as they come. So maybe if he helps you live in the moment, he'll be the one to stick around."

Rory smiled and hugged her mom. "I'm glad you're here."

"Well, it's nice to be included, even this late in the game," Lorelai said, adding just a splash of guilt into the proceedings.

"You are upset!" Rory accused.

"I'm not! I've seen you two making googly eyes at each other, and I'm not sure I would have made it through the ceremony without hurling. No offense."

"How am I not supposed to take offense to that?"

"Do you enjoy watching me flirt with men?"

Rory stiffened at the idea. "Okay. I see your point. Let's just move on to another topic, shall we?"

Lorelai raised her cup to her lips in thought. "Did I tell you Kirk's signed up to go around the world in a hot-air balloon for charity?"

-X-

Logan opened the door that led to a longer corridor, all lined with doors similar in appearance, the only notable difference the names etched in black script on the panes of frosted glass on each. She stayed at a fast clip, remaining within the confines of his arm that partially encircled her and kept steady at the small of her back. Her heels echoed on the marble tile, and the whole place smelled of old books and ink. Had they been there for any other reason, she might enjoy the experience, for the sheer olfactory delight alone.

"This shouldn't take too long," he said, for what had to be the tenth time since they left the house.

"Do you really believe that, or are you trying to convince yourself?" she asked.

He offered her a half smile, the result of nerves. "You know me so well."

She lifted a shoulder. "When you've been married as long as we have, it comes naturally."

He laughed and kissed her cheek. "Thanks. I needed that."

"It's just a meeting with a lawyer. He was nice enough, if not a little stodgy."

Logan halted in the hallway, forcing her to an abrupt stop as well. "It's not just him. Is that what you thought?"

She frowned. "You said we were meeting with your father's lawyer."

"Lawyers," he said, stressing the last letter. "And my father, schedule permitting, though I can't imagine what kind of event would supersede this on his schedule. The death of the empire, maybe, a total shut-down of all print media, perhaps. Especially now, with him having so little in the way of bargaining power over the rest of my future."

Rory's mouth gaped. "I thought he was happy for us."

Logan nodded succinctly. "He is. Mostly. I think."

"Then why is this still such a big deal? You were very clear with your intentions about work and our marriage."

He smiled, softly, at her naivety. "I'm trying, my absolute best, I want you to know that, to make this as swift and painless as possible—the transition away from my father and his control over my life. But you've met the man. He doesn't take no for an answer and he doesn't back down from any opponent. And if he thinks there is even the slightest chance I might so much as blink, he's going to seize any foothold."

"All of this so his son will take his place?" she asked. "Why can't Honor take over? She's first-born."

"Honor might do well covering a gossip column or perhaps writing an advice column about sex and dating for one of his papers, but being a CEO of a major multimedia empire has never really been her desire. She's far more dedicated to long lunches and vacationing on the water where foreign men bring her drinks with umbrellas in them as she suns herself in the sand."

Rory pursed her lips. "Honor is far more headstrong and motivated than that."

"When she wants to be, yes. But as much as she likes to point out the unfairness of our patriarchal, male-dominated family dynamic, she would have entered the witness protection program to hide from my father if she were in my place. But none of that matters, because there is no such thing as suggesting alternative solutions to these people. My father wants what he wants, as it was written in the beginning of time, and I'm going to put up a wall and tell him what he's going to get. He's gonna be pissed, but I've spent my life building up immunity to that particular emotion from him."

"And it's necessary that I be there for all this?"

Logan nodded. "Having you there will remind me why I'm pushing back so hard. And there will be some paperwork for you to sign," he added.

"You say that a lot these days. Maybe I should have a stamp made. Oh, wait, this is the courthouse."

He smiled at her as if she were the most adorable creature he'd ever seen. "You're just figuring that out now?"

She tilted her head, glaring at him a little. "Can't I get one of those forms here? At the Social Security office, to change my name?"

His mouth dropped open. "I, uh, yeah. You could," he said, emphasizing his last word heavily.

"You don't want me to?" she asked, suddenly concerned.

"No! It's not about what I want. I just thought we'd discussed this. You were going to wait."

"Well, I mean, it's been a couple of weeks now. We've told everyone, and now that I've remembered the night we got married," she trailed off happily. "It can't hurt to get the form."

He pulled her in, his hands at her waist, and kissed her soundly in the hallway. "No, it can't hurt at all. I wish I could say the same for this meeting."

"What kind of law firm has its offices in the courthouse, anyway?" she asked.

"We're not meeting them at the office. This is an arbitration," he explained.

"What?" she yelped.

"I told you, my father wasn't going to make this easy."

"But isn't that a little extreme?" she asked.

"Did you expect anything else from my father?" he turned the question back on her. "The arbitration is solely about my ending my professional ties with the family, but while we're here he wanted to go over the necessary paperwork to amend the family's paperwork in reference to my inheritance as far as the marriage affects it. It would be easier if they weren't intertwined, but that's how the Huntzbergers operate."

Rory seemed dazed. "Right."

He squeezed her hand. "All you have to do is hold my hand and sign off when we're done."

"Okay."

"It's going to be fine," he said, stressing the last word a little too much.

"Meaning we'll survive?"

"I wouldn't have made you come if I didn't have to," he offered, by way of making her feel at all better about the situation.

"I just wish I believed that it was just business, that it wasn't personal, because you married me and not someone they liked better."

"You don't get business and personal issues handled separately in my family," he admitted. "But we will. After this, they're just the people who contributed their DNA to me, not my bosses or my punishers."

"Do I get to be your boss?" she asked impishly.

"The second we get home," he agreed readily and kissed her again. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"Giving me a dirty image or two to get me through the next few hours," he said, as he took her hand and encouraged her to step quickly to their final destination.

"Wait… few hours?" she echoed as they hurried along the hallway.

-X-

Honor sat at the end of the bar, with a martini glass filled with pink liquid, staring at her cell phone as she waited. Rory slid her purse down her arm and hung it on the back of the chair next to her sister-in-law and told the bartender to bring another of whatever he'd brought Honor.

Honor was instantly focused on Rory. "So, how'd it go?"

"There are no words," Rory said with a shudder.

"You're the one that married my brother. Surely you knew the kind of trouble you were heaping on yourself."

Rory cast a side-long glance at her companion. "Don't ever tell him I said this, but it was easier when he was toeing the line and honoring his family commitments in a completely half-assed manner."

"I might have expected him to admit that, but not you. You hate Herr Mitchum."

"I don't hate him. I mean, I did, for a while. I had his picture on the center of the dartboard at the Daily News. I drew little horns on his head, and I got to be a really good shot. But that was before; I can't hate my father-in-law."

Honor snorted. "Why not? People do it all the time."

"You don't like your in-laws?"

"Oh, my God, no, I love them. His mom makes casseroles and works part time at a bank, and his dad is a golf instructor. They're the most normal people I've ever met. Being at their house is like wearing a Snuggie. It's a bungalow for crissakes."

Rory blinked at Honor. "That's a good thing?"

"It's nice not to have to be on, all the time. In our house, you couldn't just hang out and relax, it wasn't done. You had to be coiffed and pressed and presentable, because there was always some dignitary or other over for dinner or brunch or over to play Canasta. I can be myself with Josh, and with his parents. They don't expect me to be anything else. It's great. I mean, I love dressing up and talking to famous people. It's fun, now and then. But it's stressful to live that way all the time, and I didn't want to end up like my mother."

"I don't think any of us want to end up like your mother," Rory agreed, knocking back half her drink in one go. "That's good."

"I find anything pink or blue usually to be a crowd pleaser," Honor mused.

"How much do you know?" Rory asked.

"About today? Well, I know you that you love my stupid brother enough to go into the lion's den time and again. And that he was in a pissy mood afterward, but he spoke glowingly about your patience. He likened you to Biblical characters."

"It was awful. Your father is treating him like a deserter. And it's not like Logan was looking to get money out of the deal. He's not asking for anything, other than to be left alone."

"My father won't agree to that. Logan is the heir, which makes his kids in line for the throne, even if he abdicates," Honor said with a simple shrug.

"Yes, we were explained how it all works in great detail. We were talked to about our children, whom we haven't even decided we'll have yet."

"You don't want kids?" Honor asked with interest.

"Not this immediate minute. We got married fast, but not out of an attempt to hide anything."

"Hiding things is something our family loves to pull off, at least socially. Behind closed doors, there are more strings than a puppet show."

"There is one solution to all this," Rory said slowly.

"Murder-suicide pact?" Honor guessed.

"A simple deletion. If everything got shifted to the first-born, not the first-born son, you could take over for your dad."

"Why on earth would I want to do that?" Honor asked, outwardly horrified.

"Because it's as much your birthright as it is Logan's, to accept or reject. He shouldn't have to pay penalties and pass the buck onto his kids because he's following his heart. Families shouldn't work that way."

"You want me to put this on my kids?"

"These kids don't actually exist!" Rory exclaimed, not for the first time that day. "Sorry. I have a headache, still, and I'm a little short-tempered. I stayed calm for Logan, but this is bothering him way more than he's letting on. He went to bed at eight-thirty. I nearly called a doctor, I was so worried."

"Listen, Rory, Logan's not new to this. He's spent his whole life being told the drill, as have I. Since he was born, he's been told he was a future CEO of big business, a newspaper man, a smart, capable guy that would run the world. I was told to marry well and taught how to pick out the right shade of lipstick for each season."

"Doesn't that piss you off? Wouldn't it be the best revenge to become your dad's boss, fire him, and take the business into the next phase?"

"My father and I have a very different relationship than what he and Logan have. I wish I could help you out, I really do, but it's not my place. Trite as it might be, I accepted my role in the family long ago. I might like to stir things up once in a while, and I do stand up for things that are important to me, like being with Josh, but I can't get involved in this fight. Logan's going to have to stay the course and get out on his own. I'm sorry I can't help more. I like you. I like having a sister. And I love that you want to intervene on Logan's behalf. He hasn't had anyone do that for him before. He deserves that."

Rory was crestfallen. "He doesn't have the money. What your father wants him to pay back, he doesn't have it. He lost a lot in the last deal he tried to make at the company, and this is going to kill him. He wouldn't say no, he's too proud for that, but your dad is going to have him on a payment plan. I told him, over and over again that I'm good at shoe-string budgeting and that I love him no matter how much money there is, and that as soon as we both get jobs we won't even notice the monthly dent, but he's never had to live like that."

Honor sighed and stared into her drink. "I'm not the only option."

"What's that mean? Does your father have an illegitimate son running around somewhere?"

Honor smirked. "Possibly, though I'm sure he'd be paying through the nose if he did. I meant you."

"Me? Taking Logan's place? I couldn't."

Honor nodded. "Why not? You're smart, you're a journalist, you want that life, and you're a Huntzberger now."

"I… can't. Logan wants to be away from all that. He doesn't want that kind of life."

"For himself," Honor corrected.

"Your father would never go for that," Rory added.

"You'd be surprised how badly he wants to keep it in the family. You're family now, and the next best thing to Logan. Hell, you even looked up to the old man at one point in your life, which is more than he can say for his real kids," Honor explained.

"He was pretty adamant that the original wording be kept intact," Rory argued.

"He wants it routed through the eldest son. You're married to the eldest son. The children sired from Logan will also come from you. It's a blurry line, but it's certainly a viable option if all parties were amenable."

Rory chewed at her bottom lip. "When you put it that way, I guess it almost makes sense. Not that I'm saying I think it's at all feasible."

"I'm not saying you have to make that choice. But I do think it is a choice you could make," Honor clarified.

"Is that what sisterly advice is?" Rory asked with a nervous laugh.

"I usually find advice from siblings is for your best interest, though often it's the last thing you wanted to hear. But, as an upside, we can share make-up and clothes, whereas I never had that option with Logan. Though his friend Finn did like to wear my shoes."

Rory leaned in conspiratorially. "Did you ever hook up with any of Logan's friends?"

Honor did her best to appear horrified at the thought, but caved a little. "I may have had a little too much to drink at Logan's graduation party and made out with Finn in my room. Tell anyone, ever, and I'll deny it."

Rory smirked, understanding the feeling. "How was it?"

"Surprisingly good. Thank God we got interrupted, or who knows what might have happened. Though I guess Logan would have been mortified to know his sister had hooked up with his friend. There's a silver lining to everything, right? Like you getting drunk and marrying my brother—I get a sister out of the deal."

"There's more good than that to come out of it, I hope," Rory added.

Honor held up her fresh glass, encouraging Rory to do the same in a toast. "To getting drunk and making life-changing decisions."

Rory clinked the glass with hers, realizing how very pertinent that toast was. "Guess I have to drink to that, don't I?"


End file.
